


Switch

by DarthFucamus, WitchOfTheWestCountry



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Amputation, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bugs & Insects, F/M, Face rape, Face-Fucking, Female Domination, Fluff, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monster/creature sex, Murder, Period Sex, Premature Ejaculation, Rough Sex, The feels, Twisted Romance, bereavement, ow my feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-06 03:16:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10324340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthFucamus/pseuds/DarthFucamus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchOfTheWestCountry/pseuds/WitchOfTheWestCountry
Summary: Lucas has captured 3 women and needs a volunteer to help him "play" his "games"





	1. Survival and Sacrifice

The last thing she remembered was leaving work.

She’d been tired and sore after locking up the bar and was thinking only of the two nights off she had, and how she intended to take long hot baths and binge-watch Netflix on both of them.

Then there had been scuffling footsteps behind her, and something foul pressed over her mouth, and she’d woken up....here. Wherever the fuck here was.

She felt dizzy and her head ached. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the after effects of whatever had knocked her out or due to the awful fucking stench. It was like mould – not the powdery, blue mould she often found at the end of a loaf of bread, but like the black, wet mould that grew behind the sink in her bathroom. The sort that sprouted greasy looking mushrooms if she didn’t clean it up.

She tried to open her eyes. It hurt to do so, but she had to look around. She could hear someone else nearby, weeping fitfully, and the low murmur of a hushed voice.  
She’d been right about the mould, she thought – it was everywhere, sliming the walls and puddled on the floor, somehow oily looking. It even clung to the bars of the cell she was in, dripping like viscous ink.

Directly opposite her were more cells. Two of them were occupied – one by a frightened looking redhead, the other by a quivering ball in the corner with long golden hair.

“Hello?” she called out. Her voice didn’t sound like her own, any echo swallowed by the muck on all surfaces.

“We mustn’t talk....” whimpered the ball.

“Fuck that, Lindsay!” retorted the redhead. “We have to find out how we got here.”

The redhead looked across at her.

“I’m Heidi,” said the girl. “You any idea what happened, where this is?”

She shook her head.

“I was leaving work....” she said. She shrugged, glancing from Heidi to Lindsay and back again. “What happened to you?”

“We were hitchhiking,” said Heidi. “Trying to get home for spring break. Guess my Momma was right – it is dangerous....”

Lindsay broke into a fresh fit of sobbing.

A door opened at the far side of the room and a man walked in. Lindsay shrieked in terror at the interruption. Heidi backed away from the bars.

“Well now, ladies,” said the newcomer. “Sorry to break up your little meetin’.”

She recognised him. He’d been at the bar earlier – had been there when she’d started her shift. Skinny, unshaven man in a dark green hoodie, the hood drawn up around his face. He’d nursed the same bottle of beer all night, sitting in a corner. She’d observed him only to make a note of what beer he was drinking, so she’d know what he wanted when he came up to the bar again. The customers liked that kind of thing, liked her to remember them.

He’d stared a bit, but she hadn’t minded. They all did. It was normal. She was used to it. His eyes had been the only thing unusual about him – so pale, so focussed.  
He’d left before the end of her shift. She hadn’t seen him leave. Seemed he’d hung around, though.

The man had his hood down now, revealing sparse gingery hair, shaved short around the sides, fluffier at the back. He walked up to the cells, side-by-side, that held Heidi and Lindsay.

“Looks like one o’ you’s in luck,” he remarked, his back to her. “Y’see, I only told my daddy I caught two of you, when in actual fact I caught three, so one of you gets to come on out ‘n’ play with me. How ‘bout that?”

The man cackled, seeming inordinately pleased with himself. Lindsay wailed in her corner. Heidi’s face grew pale.  
“Please.....” whispered Heidi. “Don’t....”

She felt sorry for the girls. They were young. Pampered looking. Nice clothes and good skin. They’d had good lives, probably – weren’t used to hardships like she was. They weren’t equipped to deal whatever this man had in store for them.

He was still talking.

“So which one o’ you’s it gonna be?” he said. “Blondie, here, or Miss Cry-baby? I gotta say, either one’ll do for me. Hell, I ain’t fussy!”

Heidi put her face in her hands, sagging down into her own corner. The man leaned into the bars, looking closely at each one of them.

She couldn’t stomach it any longer.

“Hey!” she yelled, banging on the bars. Her hand came away stained. “Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?”

The man turned, his face registering surprise at her interference.

“I beg your pardon?”

She folded her arms.

“Why’s it gotta be one o’ them?” she demanded. “Why not me?”

Her accent matched his own. She hoped that would endear her to him, somehow – create a connection.

“You wanna be my playmate?” His voice was incredulous, but a smile was forming.

“Sure. Why not? I’m better suited for it anyways.”

Behind him, Heidi’s mouth had fallen open. Lindsay was slowly unrolling herself from her ball, one wet eye peeking out.

The man looked her up and down, his eyes prying and mischievous.

“Well, I dunno,” he drawled. “Think maybe you might be a little – uh – long in the tooth for my purposes....”

It was stupid, but it hurt. She felt offended.

“I’m 35!” she snapped. “I ain’t past my prime yet!”

The man shrugged.

“I guess not,” he said. “But why should I choose you?”

He was playing with her now, taunting her. Her face was hot, she knew that she was blushing, but she could see hope in Heidi’s eyes. That was something.

She’d been married once. Straight from school. He’d been a bastard – a violent, vindictive drunk. She’d been married to him far too long before he’d finally passed out drunk in front of a speeding truck one night, setting her free. But she’d learned a thing or two in that time. She’d learned how to lie. She’d learned how to keep him happy.

She altered her expression. Killed the antagonism with a slow smile back at him.

“’Cause I know what I’m doing,” she said. “Those girls are soft. They’re young. They don’t know how to please a man. I do.”

“Is that right, now?”

He came towards her cell. She could see him more clearly as he stepped into the murky light. His clothes were filthy, dirt in all the creases, and his eyes were sunken and red, like he’d been awake a long time. But there was a hunger in them, lively and cruel and ravenous.

She leaned forward, conspiratorial.

“I can do more for you than those little girls could ever do...”

He stopped about a foot away, smirking.

“Care to prove it?”

She reached through the bars, slowly so as not to spook him, and grabbed a handful of the hoodie he wore, bunching it in her fist over his stomach. It felt like there was nothing behind it – as though he had no more substance than smoke, or was hollow-boned like a bird.

She pulled him forward, up to the divide, determined to wipe that smile off his face. He came to her easily enough – there was no resistance in him. She smiled again, reaching out to caress his face. She impressed herself: Her hand didn’t shake.

“What’s your name, honey?” she asked him.

The grin on his lips faltered.

“Lucas,” he said.

“Pleased to meet you, Lucas. Although I can’t say I wouldn’t rather it was under different circumstances. You shoulda come up to me in the bar earlier. Introduced yourself. I’d’ve liked that...”

He squirmed slightly under the intensity of her gaze, and she felt a thrill of victory shoot through her when he looked away.

Carefully, she slid her hand downwards, trailing it down his chest over the smudged LCS and down to where she judged his waistband to be. Heidi and Lindsay were silent. She didn’t know whether they were shocked, disgusted or grateful – maybe a mixture of all three – but she couldn’t afford to worry about them now.

As she touched his zip, his own hands reached out to grasp the bars, seeming to steady himself. His fingers were long and surprisingly slender, his nails cleaner than she’d expected. His stare had returned, watching her face. She kept her smile where it was, though it twitched at the corners.

The sound of his zip was loud in the silence. He was already semi-hard when she reached into his pants. Her mouth felt dry and her knees felt weak.

Judging by the state of his clothes, she’d assumed his personal hygiene would be appalling, but as she brought his dick out into the clammy air he surprised her again: It was perfectly clean, apart from the wetness at the tip, and healthy looking. A decent size. Skinny maybe, like him, but lengthy enough, with a slight upward curve.

She felt it dip against her palm under the weight of her attention, and stroked her thumb along the little thread of skin, like scar tissue, that ran up to the helmet. A boyfriend had told her the name of that bit once – something beginning with F? – but she couldn’t’ remember what it was called. She did remember that he’d told her it was sensitive, though.  
Lucas’s breathing hitched when she touched it, proving that her old boyfriend had been telling the truth. She didn’t have to ask him if he’d liked it.

She debated. Hand or mouth? She knew she could do both just as well, but her decision could very well mean the difference between life and death. She glanced up at him. He’d stopped looking at her face now, and was looking down at himself lying against her fingers. His mouth was slightly open, his tongue just touching his upper lip. She knew what he wanted.

She realised she was still gripping the front of his hoodie, so she released it. He wasn’t going anywhere. She braced herself against the bars, lowering herself onto the stone floor, accepting the sacrifice of her only good jeans to the grime. Using his hard-on for leverage, she drew him in closer, wanting as little contact with those polluted cell bars as possible. There still didn’t seem to be enough saliva in her mouth to do the job, but she hoped for the best as she slid her lips over the head of his cock.

Three voices responded in unison – Lucas’s low moan of appreciation, Heidi’s and Lindsay’s gasps of shock. They surely couldn’t see what she was doing, but they had to know.  
Pre-cum dribbled out and touched her tongue. She smeared it around her lips to make up for the lack of spit. Under different circumstances, in bed with a boyfriend, she would have teased, prolonged the experience, but this wasn’t foreplay – she had to get this done. She had to convince him.

She felt him scrape the back of her throat and gagged, turning her head and opening her jaw wider to wedge him more comfortably in. She didn’t have to work much, as his hips were making involuntary jerking movements, bumping against the bars. Her hand was still wrapped around the base of his cock and she used this to her advantage, pulling and squeezing in the rhythm of her sucking to make him feel like he was in to his hilt.

She was done before she’d even properly started. He came in her mouth with a low grunt when she least expected it, flooding her tubes without warning, the slimy fluid surging into her mouth in jolts. She did her best to swallow what she could but there was so much it dribbled from the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin and onto the cell floor. It was so hot it seemed to burn.

She drew back as soon as politely possible, wiping her mouth surreptitiously on the cuff of her blouse. What she’d managed to swallow slid down her throat in a searing trail and she struggled to suppress the urge to puke it all up again. That would never do.

Looking up, she saw he still stood clutching the bars, his knuckles white. Though his eyes were still glazed and stupid, a satisfied smile was creeping over his lips.

“Well, shit,” he said finally, letting out a gust of held-in breath. “That wasn’t at all what I meant when I was talkin’ about playin’, but holy fuck! Since you’re so eager to please, I guess I might have a use for you after all!”

He tucked himself swiftly away, pulling up his zip and dropping her a happy wink.

“Come on outta there, honey – you jest won the grand prize!”


	2. Scary Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas has to get his new playmate back to his HQ

If she’d been able to kick her own ass for stupidity, she would have done so. What the fuck had she gotten herself into?

She’d apparently had no idea what he’d meant when he talked about “playing” or having a playmate, but it had been safe to assume he’d referred to sex, she reasoned. That’s what men wanted from women, wasn’t it?

She sighed as she followed Lucas down the slimy corridor. Whatever he’d originally intended, it was too late to take it back now. She’d sucked his skinny cock and firmly cemented herself into the role of sex toy.

Lucas stopped at the end of the corridor. There was a lumpy old, stained backpack by the door and he picked it up, slipping an arm through one of the straps before turning to her.

“Pay attention now, cos I ain’t gonna repeat myself and this stuff is important,” he said. “Now, I know that your interest in me, flatterin' though it may be, ain’t 100% genuine. I may be ugly but I ain’t dumb. That bein' said, believe me when I tell you I do not give one single shit whether it’s real or not. You volunteered to take one for the team, for whatever reason you felt necessary, and that is good enough for me. Plus you give good head. That helps.

“Anyways, bearin' that in mind, as we leave here you might get it into your head that it would be a good idea to run away. If that thought occurs to you, you jest go ahead and cast that notion aside. I cannot stress that enough. You see, you will be caught. If my mother or father catch you, you will either end up dead or you will become somethin’ even worse, and neither of those things will be pleasant while they’re happenin'. Trust me on that. Also, once we go through this door, you are gonna see some shit that will leave you questionin’ the very nature of existence. So whatever happens, you stay close to me and do as you are told. Okay?”

She nodded.

“Now. Is there anything you wanna say before we go?”

She thought for a moment. She had so many questions it would take a year to ask them all and he was already looking impatient. But one thing in his little pep talk had struck her.  
“You ain’t ugly,” she said.

He stared at her, his mouth falling open.

“What?”

“I said you ain’t ugly,” she repeated. She shrugged. She’d been called a lot of things in her time, ugly being one of them, and she knew how certain words could stain your soul. Whoever had come up with that saying about sticks and stones had been full of shit as far as she was concerned.

Lucas shook his head.

“Out of everything I said, that’s the one thing you pick up on. Girl, I don’t know if you’re sassy or just plain retarded, but I guess it don’t matter right now. We gotta get out o’ here.”  
He grabbed her wrist.

“Keep up,” he warned, and opened the door.

 

If Lucas had been vague about what horrors lay beyond the door, it soon became apparent that he hadn’t been lying. After her first glimpse of one of those....things....his caveat about keeping close was no longer necessary. She stuck so close to his side that they could have been mistaken for conjoined twins.

They moved through the murk swiftly but stealthily. Lucas didn’t appear to be concerned about the squelchy monsters but he was certainly worried about something else. After what he’d said, it had to be his parents, but she couldn’t imagine how they could be worse than the lumbering monstrosities that slurped in and out of the walls.

After an interminable amount of time they came to a door that appeared to have scorpions nailed to it. Unphased, Lucas unshouldered his backpack and rooted around in it. She watched curiously as, after a certain amount of clanking, he produced a large metal rod with a smaller scorpion curled round it.

He turned and spoke to her for the first time since they’d left the cells.

“You did real good. Didn’t even scream when the Molded came out. I was very nearly impressed. We’re nearly outta the woods now, but there’s a coupla areas we have to get through that might be a little tricky. So if I tell you to hide, you hide. If I tell you to run, you run. Got it?”

She nodded. He didn’t have to tell her twice.

“Good.”

He slotted the end of the metal bar into a depression in the door and twisted. She heard the grate of a mechanism and then the door was open. Lucas poked his head through the gap cautiously.

“Coast’s clear. Come on.”

She huddled close to his back as they slipped into the new area. For some reason she was more terrified than she had been down below and she found herself clinging to the filthy fabric of his hoodie as if it would protect her as she looked around.

They were in a large dusty room with a table in the middle of it. Off to the left, two sweeping staircases arched up to the next floor. A large double door stood under one of them and she could hear voices coming from the other side, raised in argument.

“You’re the one who let that cock-guzzling shit-heel escape!” screeched a woman’s voice suddenly. “I told you not to leave the dog heads in the door. Now I gotta find that whoremaster and make the fucking dinner!”

She felt Lucas’s body tense.

“Shit,” he murmured. “Momma’s mad. We better hurry.”

He pulled her off to the right where a door stood open. Fresh air breezed through it.

“The second we get outside, we run. OK?” he whispered.

She nodded, any words she might have spoken choked down by fear.

Treading softly, they crossed the room and slipped through the door.

Lucas didn’t miss a beat as they exited onto the veranda, breaking into a run as soon as they’d crossed the threshold. His dirty sneakers pounding the boards, he took the short flight of stairs ahead of them at a leap, launching himself from the top step and landing on the grass below.

Nearly overwhelmed by panic, she followed his lead. It didn’t occur to her at any point to try to escape, her only thought as they raced across the overgrown lawn to stay as close behind Lucas as possible, which was easier said than done as the man moved like a fucking greyhound.

Lucas dug in his pocket as they ran, pulling out two flat objects, one red and one blue. As they reached their destination, a secure looking door with an old toilet next to it, she saw they were some kind of key cards that he slotted into holders.

The door popped open and Lucas yanked her inside, slamming it shut behind them.

 

“Whoo-wee! What a rush!” howled Lucas as she paused to catch her breath, staggering beneath the weight of her terror. She could see his manic grin even in the gloom.

She didn’t respond, bending over with her hands braced on her knees, panting. She was a wreck of nervous, spent energy, the adrenaline making her body shake, but that bastard hadn’t even broken into a sweat.

He watched her for a while, waiting for her to recover. The fact that he wasn’t hurrying her indicated that they were in a safe area, so she allowed herself to relax slightly. It was only when he began to tap his foot impatiently that she straightened.

“You done now? Ready to move on?”

She wasn’t fooled by his questions. They were moving on whether she was ready or not. She nodded anyway.

“Great. Well – ladies first!”

He gestured to the narrow flight of stairs next to her.

She began to climb them, Lucas following. He was uncomfortably close and she wondered whether he was using the opportunity to study her ass. Her suspicions were confirmed when they reached the top and she turned to see him leering at her.

“Not bad,” he commented, reaching around her. She thought he was going to give her ass a swat but instead he grabbed her through her jeans, squeezing almost to the point of pain. “Not bad at all....”

She forced herself to smile up at him and he smirked back, using the handful of ass-flesh he held to pull her closer. Her belly bumped up against his, her breast squashing against his chest. He moved his face nearer, studying her reaction. She could feel his breath against her lips and she expected him to kiss her, but he seemed more interested in what was behind her.

She felt his other hand join the first, kneading her ass as if it were PlayDoh. His cock was stiff again, nudging intrusively against her thigh. She wondered if she was going to be fucked right there in that bare room on the dusty floorboards.

Splinters! Her mind interjected, far more practical than afraid.

“Baby, you’re turning me on,” he murmured, his lips almost touching hers. His eyes had taken on that glazed look again, stupid with lust. Fuck-drunk, she’d always called it. She steeled herself, ready to cope with what was to come, but to her relief he suddenly released his hold on her, pushing her gently away with a look of real regret.

“Much as I’d like to do you right here and now, this probably ain’t the time or the place. Not exactly romantic, is it?” He laughed before turning away. “Come on now. We’re nearly there.”

 

She trailed him through a series of rooms and corridors. She got the sense that this was his personal territory, and though he clearly favoured practicality over aesthetics, most of the place was the cleanest she’d seen yet. There were some poorly lit areas where indistinct figures stirred wetly in the shadows, but mostly there were bright lights and white painted walls. There were a puzzling amount of armless mannequins scattered throughout the rooms and she tried not to let them creep her out too much, knowing it was silly to be troubled by them after what she’d already been through.

They reach a final door, armoured, with a keypad next to it. Lucas stood in front of it, shielding it from her view as he tapped in a 4-digit code. There was a buzz and the door clicked open. Lucas stepped back and waved her through. He looked relaxed and unconcerned, so she assumed she was about to enter a safe area.

Relatively safe, anyhow. There might not be mould monsters, but there was a possibly human one right behind her.

The door slammed shut behind them with a clang. Lucas brushed past her, dumping his backpack on a threadbare but clean couch.

“Welcome to my centre of operations,” he said. “Ain’t too shabby, huh?”

She had to agree. Compared to what she’d seen so far this was almost cosy. There was the couch, a large TV wired up to an old VCR with a stack of VHS tapes beside it, a bookcase loaded with luridly coloured paperbacks, and a table, scattered with bits of wire and tools.

“Got everythin' I need here,” he bragged. “Got a kitchen, a bathroom, a laundry room – and o’ course, a bedroom.” He winked at her. “But before I invite you to make yourself at home, we got some business to take care of. Take them jeans off.”


	3. Like a Virgin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Lucas's quarters, his new guest is getting settled in.

The jolt that went through her was more surprise at his bluntness than fear. He saw the look on her face and chuckled.

“Calm down now! I know you’re eager to get started, but you’re covered in that black shit. Fuckin' mould gets everywhere. Don’t want you messin' up my place – it took me long enough to fix it up. So take 'em off. The blouse, too.”

With numb fingers she did her best to obey, her face heating up as she fumbled with the button of her jeans. His smile was broad as he watched her closely, clearly enjoying himself.

“Looks to me like you’re havin' some problems. Need some help?”

“I can do it,” she muttered, biting down on her bottom lip in concentration. The button came undone, the zip following. She was shaking as she eased the tight denim over her hips, her face burning hotter as she nearly fell trying to get them off her ankles, Lucas’s laughter ringing in her ears. Her blouse was long enough to hide her panties so the real humiliation didn’t kick in until she began the struggle of undoing the row of buttons down the front.

“Come on, now!” he taunted. “I haven’t got all day.”

She finally succeeded, shrugging the fabric from her shoulders and sliding her arms from the sleeves.

She held both garments out to him, but he didn’t take them – he was too busy studying her, his eyes crawling down her body with such intensity she could almost feel the weight of his gaze like tiny fingers against her skin. He licked his lips.

“And the rest,” he said hoarsely.

She looked down at herself. The mismatched bra and panties were old and worn but clean, the black goo nowhere in sight.

“But they ain’t dirty,” she protested.

“Take ‘em off.”

She dropped her jeans and blouse onto the floor and reached behind her to snag the clasp of her bra. Her head was swimming as she unhooked it and let it fall, but as her breasts came bare she heard his small intake of breath.

“Stay calm now”, urged a voice in her head. It sounded like her Aunt Ruby – a fiercely pragmatic woman and one of her favourite relatives, though sadly passed away now. “The boy’s never seen a naked woman in the flesh, I’ll bet. Look at him. He’s panting like a dog on a hot day. He ain’t gonna hurt you. He wants that pussy too bad.”

Her head cleared as the voice soothed her. Aunt Ruby often spoke in her head when she was stressed. The shaking in her hands and legs subsided, and she gave him a little smile as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pushed them down, the wisp of nylon sliding down her legs to pool around her ankles. She kicked them away.  
Lucas was still staring, that smile finally wiped off his face and replaced with a look that was almost awe. As much as he wanted to pretend he was in control here, she felt a sense of power at his reaction.

There was silence in the room. She could see the long line of Lucas’s erection straining down the leg of his pants, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to take advantage of her. His hands dangled at his sides, the fists clenching and unclenching spasmodically. She doubted he was aware he was doing it. He examined every part of her individually, taking in the appendectomy scar, the Mandela tattoo that stretched upwards from her navel to her sternum, the stretch marks on her breasts from where she’d hit puberty at full speed 2 years earlier than her classmates – everything.

He took a deep breath and moved forward. She felt the muscles on the back of her thighs tense, some fight-or-flight instinct screaming at her, but he didn’t approach her. Instead he bent down and scooped up her armful of clothes and turned, leaving the room through one of the doors.

She stood there, dumbfounded, her heart still pounding. What the fuck? She was standing there naked and he was going to do some fucking laundry?

She forced herself to relax, looking round the room. She felt awkward and embarrassed, not sure whether she should sit down to wait or remain standing, wondering how long he was going to take. She could hear water running, and the muffled hum of electronic equipment.

She was just debating whether or not to explore the other rooms when he returned.

He wore clean clothes – clean blue jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt with buttons at the throat, clean sneakers. He held some kind of yellow cloth in his hand.

He noticed her staring.

“What?” he demanded defensively. “You think I wanna wear those stinkin’, filthy clothes all the time? Naw. I jest wear them to stop Eveline and the others gettin’ suspicious.  
”  
She wanted to ask who Eveline was, and why she would be suspicious of clean clothes, but felt it was wiser not to ask.

“Anyways, I found this,” he continued, tossing her the yellow cloth.

She caught it, held it up. It was a flowery cotton dress with thin straps and a full skirt.

“Dunno if it’ll fit, but it’s all I got for now,” he told her.

She didn’t want to ask why he had a dress in his quarters. She had too many questions, and if she started asking there would be no end to them.

Lucas came closer.

“Well. Aren’t you gonna thank me?”

“Thank you,” she replied innocently.

A half smile played on his lips.

“That ain’t quite what I meant,” he said.

“Oh!” Once the realisation hit her, she felt stupid, but his behaviour was so erratic she couldn’t possibly be expected to predict his next course of action.  
She set the dress down on the arm of the couch and reached for his zip. He caught her wrists before she got there, holding them still, staring into her face as though looking for something. She was aware she’d been clenching her teeth and tensing her muscles, so tried to soften her expression into one more welcoming.  
Appearing to reach some decision he pulled her over to the table, sweeping the bits of wire and components onto the floor with one motion. His hands left her wrists and grabbed her waist, and suddenly she was lifted with no more effort than he would have shown picking up the backpack. She was surprised at the strength in those spindly arms – it didn’t seem possible.

Her ass hit the table as he perched her on the edge, legs dangling. He moved between them, pushing himself against her with a swiftness that was set to make up for all the delays. He was undoing his zip even as his arm went round her waist, pulling her closer impatiently. Ever obliging, she opened her legs to accommodate him. His cock was out now, hot and hard against the inside of her thigh.

She put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself but he barely seemed to notice, his teeth gritted as poked at her erratically, searching for the way home. The head of his hard-on bumped her pubic bone, then her clit, before finding her slit and pushing in. She winced at the feeling. She was dryer than the Mojave Desert – fear had a tendency to do that – and the head of his prick lodged inside her fruitlessly.

“Wait, wait, wait!” She said.

Lucas hesitated, staring at her in confusion.

“I ain’t ready yet,” she explained gently, taking hold of his cock behind the helmet and easing it carefully out. “Don’t rush, now. You try ‘n’ get in me as is, it’s gonna feel like sandpaper, not pussy.”

“Oh.” He looked crestfallen, his dick softening in her hand.

She did her best to smile.

“It’s ok,” she said. “Just gotta get warmed up, is all.”

The unreality of the situation washed over her as she slipped her free arm round his neck. She’d been kidnapped for god knows what purpose, been dragged through underground tunnels filled with monsters, and brought out here as a prisoner - and here she was, trying to soothe the feelings of a man who was possibly a psychopath but who was almost definitely a virgin.

Not sure what else to do, she kissed him.

His mouth opened wetly under hers, his tongue sliding against her teeth. He tasted faintly of cigarettes but more overpoweringly of toothpaste, and she knew that as well as changing his clothes he’d brushed his teeth before coming out to her. Something about that revelation made the whole situation feel different, and she found herself softening towards him. She’d heard of Stockholm syndrome and knew it didn’t work this quickly, but she also knew about awkwardness, loneliness, and of being a social outcast. He had the look of someone who had been bullied at school, and she couldn’t help but feel some sort of sympathy towards that aspect of him. It was something she could relate to.  
Both his arms were around her waist now, his hands pressed against her back, his prick hardening again as she stroked it. Kissing him wasn’t turning her on but it was providing a delay. She tried to think of something that would arouse her, but it was difficult given the circumstances. She dragged her thumb over the eye of his cock, feeling the moisture dribbling from it, and for the second time that day used it as lubrication. She opened her legs wider and tilted her hips forward, rubbing him up and down her outer lips, curling her legs around his and hooking her ankles behind his calves.

Suddenly he gasped, sucking her breath from her mouth, his arms tightening around her convulsively as his dick jerked in her hand. Something hot and wet splashed over her thighs.

“Shit!” Lucas drew back, his face displaying honest dismay as he looked down. Spunk was matted in her pubic hair, a long thread of it joining the end of his dick to her. “Shit....” he repeated.

He looked up at her, his lips still coated in her spit, turned down slightly at the corners. She thought maybe he was expecting derision from her, but she smiled as kindly as she could. She was still very aware that she could die down here, and didn’t want him to think she would ever ridicule him.

“It’s ok,” she assured him. “In fact, it’s quite a compliment. And we can try again later, can’t we?”

Lucas didn’t say anything, pulling away from her with a crestfallen expression. He picked up a rag from nearby and used it to clean himself up before tossing it to her.  
“May as well put that dress on then,” he grumbled, turning away.

She mopped the cum from lower body, her heart racing. She could very well imagine him hurting her in a fury of embarrassment, but it appeared she’d got off lightly.  
By the time she’d pulled the dress on over her head, Lucas seemed to be in a better mood. He eyed her in the new outfit. It was a bit small, tight round her chest and too high on her thighs, but it beat being naked and he seemed to like the way she looked in it.

“S’pose I better show you around. Won’t take long.”

The kitchen was pretty basic, a fridge, a microwave, some cupboards and a stove covered with a layer of dust.

The laundry room was bare except for a washer-dryer, already churning with suds in its window, and a table stacked with clean, folded clothes.  
The bathroom had a toilet, a sink and a claw-foot tub with a shower attachment overhead, streaked with rust but clean enough.  
The bedroom was small, containing a narrow bed and a nightstand with a bare-bulbed lamp on it. There were technical manuals strewn on the floor, looking like they’d been tossed there from the bed.

The last room had a heavy padlock on the door  
.  
“Now this room, you can’t go into,” he told her. “Use all the others whenever you want, but this is out of bounds.”

“Like Bluebeard’s,” she murmured, looking at the locked door.

“What?”

“ Bluebeard. Told his new wife she could look in any room except one. Curiosity got the better of her one day, and she found the heads of all his other wives in there.”  
Lucas shook his head.

“Whatever. Just don’t get it into your own head to steal my keys and go in there one day.”

“I don’t wanna go in there,” she said.

“Well, good. Cos you can’t.”

“I won’t.”

Confounded, he shrugged it off and took a bunch of keys from his pocket.

“Gonna be workin' for a while,” he said. “You make yourself at home, or whatever. Watch TV or somethin’.”

The door closed behind him, and she heard a bar slide across from the other side, leaving her alone.

 

She didn’t bother trying the door to outside. She knew she wouldn’t be able to guess the code and anyway, there were monsters out there.

Instead, she looked through the pile of VHS tapes. They were all horror movies, which cheered her up. Evil Dead, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Exorcist. She slotted An American Werewolf in London into the VCR and lay down on the sofa.

 

At some point, the ordeals of the day overwhelmed her, and she fell asleep. When she awoke, the lights were out and Lucas was there, lying on top of her. She felt his hands lift her dress, then something cold between her legs – some kind of lubricant. His long fingers smeared the substance over her pussy lips before delving inside. She kept very still, not wanting distract him or put him off. His breathing was heavy in the darkness, his fingers sliding in and out of her slowly.

She’d been lying partially on her side, and felt his hands on her hips urging her over onto her back. She let him turn her, still feeling sleepy and lazy. Let him pry her legs apart. Then she felt the burning length of his hard-on sliding up her thigh. He probed in the darkness, searching, before she took pity on him and guided him in. He hissed between his teeth as he eased into her, crushing her beneath him until she felt him raise himself up on his hands.

Grunting, he began to fuck her in short, hard shoves. It didn’t hurt this time. She closed her eyes again and began to drift back to sleep, her body rocking with the rhythm of his thrusts, until he shuddered and came with a strangled moan. He collapsed on top of her, his face against the side of her neck. On the verge of sleep, she patted him absently on the back before he withdrew and left. 

Mission accomplished.


	4. Smile! It's Your Birthday!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas's guest gets a name and meets an old acquaintance

There were no windows in Lucas’s rooms, and without any indication of when it was day or night, she lost count of how many days she’d been there. Her existence lapsed into a pattern, of sorts. Lucas spent long hours in the locked room, and occasionally had to don his filthy hoodie and beige pants to go out and deal with what he called “family business”, so she had plenty of time by herself. 

She watched old horror movies. She read the paperbacks on the bookcase, which were all true crime novels. She ate: The cuisine wasn’t sophisticated, but neither was she, and Lucas seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of Twinkies he doled out whenever she pleased him. She took long baths. She slept – sometimes on the sofa, other times more formally in Lucas’s narrow bed with him, wedged together in the darkness. Wherever she slept, she was sure to be woken up by his penis – either squirming inside her, or nudging against her lips.

Since he’d first succeeded in fucking her, Lucas seemed to be more confident in his abilities. Sex was a regular thing – 4, sometimes 5 times a day. She had far too quickly become accustomed to the way in which he’d instigate his advances, telegraphing his intentions by the deliberate unzipping of his fly. Wearing nothing but her too-small dress, she was always accessible, and she began to find his no-nonsense approach disturbingly refreshing. Within seconds of his desire, she’d be splay-legged or bent over the table, fucked briefly, then able to get back to what she’d been doing. On several occasions, she’d been about to put her book to one side when he’d told her she didn’t have to bother on his account. The motions of sex made it difficult to read, but she was thankful to have something to hide behind.

Under normal circumstances she might have become sore under the constant onslaught, but he never took long. The longest he’d lasted was 2 minutes. Lubricant was no longer a problem, either, as he was content to simply wallow in the mixed soup of his previous emissions. Two other things were constant: She never came, and she never saw him naked – not even shirtless. The sex was so predictable that she began to measure time in it.

She’d been there for around 20 fucks before he asked her name.

She been lounging around, reading, when he’d suddenly burst into the room. 

“Hey – what’s your name?” he demanded.

She laughed.

“Took you long enough to ask,” she said.

He had the grace to look slightly abashed, but shrugged like it didn’t matter.

“Gotta call you something, I guess. So what is it?”

“Zoe.”

He grimaced.

“Hell, no! I ain’t callin’ you that! That’s my sister’s name!” He shuddered theatrically. “Got a middle name?”

She snorted.

“Reba. But don’t call me that.”

“Don’t tell me – named after some fuckin’ relative.”

She nodded.

“I hear you. My middle name’s Jeremiah on account of some fuckin’ ancestor I never even met. So what do ya wanna be called?”

She thought for a moment, casting her eyes over the VHS tapes scattered on the floor. She’d watched the Alien a few fucks ago, and had loved Sigourney Weaver’s character – strong enough to fight off an Alien, sensitive enough to go back to rescue a cat.

“Call me Ellen,” she said. “It’s as good a name as any.”

“Okay. New name, new you, right?”

He disappeared back into his locked room, leaving her to contemplate how true his statement had been. How fast had she given up on her past life and accepted her new status as Lucas’s fuckdoll? She hadn’t had a choice, and her old life had been shit anyway, but still.....

She sighed.

“Don’t fuckin' worry about it, Ellen,” she said to herself and went back to reading about Son of Sam.

 

Ellen’s second dissociation from reality was when she lost count of how many times she’d been fucked. This was more upsetting to her than when she’d lost count of days, because now she had no frame of reference with which to measure her time. More and more, her world revolved around Lucas – whether he was there, whether he was not, whether he was fucking her, whether he was sleeping. These were the only things that divided up her time, and even though the periods they spent together weren’t of the greatest quality, she began to crave his company, just because there was no other way to affirm her existence. If Lucas wasn’t there, did she even exist at all?

 

Ellen woke up on the sofa to the sound of something crashing onto the table. Lucas had just lugged in a large, suitcase-like contraption which he opened up with a smile of real pride.

“Ell, get over here. I need your help to test this out.”

She eyed the machine nervously. There were bunches of wires running from it.

He saw her looking and laughed.

“Don’t worry, it ain’t gonna hurt ya. It’s a polygraph machine.”

“A what?”

“A lie-detector,” he explained.

Ellen stood and walked over to the table. She’d only just woken up and couldn’t deal with this shit.

“Where in the hell did you get that from and why do ya wanna use it on me, Lucas?”

“Never mind where I got it from. My sources cannot be revealed. But I spent a long time fixin’ it up an’ I wanna test it. Whatcha so scared about?”

He was looking at her through narrowed eyes, and she was forced to shrug.

“I dunno, it’s just weird I guess. Lucas?”

“What?”

“Please don’t ask me anything that’ll make you mad......”

He regarded her for a long time.

“Ya know I can’t promise that,” he said finally. “But I’ll try not to. Ok? Now sit down, woman.”

Ellen sat and allowed him to hook her up to the machine, not a bit surprised when he took the opportunity to cop a feel as he adjusted the strap around her chest. He winked at her and she smiled back automatically.

Once he was satisfied with the arrangement he went back to his workroom and retrieved a large book, presumably some kind of manual, which he referred to before he began.  
“Now, I gotta ask control questions, which are questions I already know the answers to, to get a base readin’. That could be tricky, as I don’t really know ya. So I guess I’ll ask questions like: ‘Is the sky blue?’” he told her.

“Right now? I don’t know what colour the sky is, I can’t see it,” she pointed out.

“Shit. You’re right. This is gonna be harder than I thought. Ok, let’s try this.....”

He started asking her questions about things they could both see, studying the readings intently and comparing them to his book each time.

“Is my shirt white?”

“No.”

“Is that movie called ‘Carrie’?”

“Yes.”

It went on until he was satisfied he knew what he was doing, then the questions became more probing. The first set had been research, this set was for his own personal fun.

“Are you really 35 years old?”

She paused.

“Yes,” she said finally.

“Hmm....inconclusive. Why’d ya hesitate?”

“Cos I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I might be 36 by now.”

“When’s your birthday?”

She told him. He checked his phone.

“Not too far away,” he mused.

Ellen shrugged.

“I don’t care. It’s just another day.”

He looked surprised, but didn’t pursue it.

“Have you ever cheated on a partner?”

“No.”

“Truth. Well, I’ll be dipped in shit! You’re loyal as Hell, Ellen. Next one: Have you ever kissed another woman?”

“Yes. My momma.”

“Ok: Have you ever kissed another woman in a sexual way?”

She sighed.

“Yes.”

“Truth. Ooh, the adventurous type. I like it. Did you fuck?”

“No. It was a school friend. We were....just curious, I guess.”

“How about this one: Have you ever broken the law?”

“Yes. Drove a car before I got my license.”

“Any felonies?” he was joking, but when she remained silent he scrutinised her intently.

“Felonies?” he repeated. He closed the book next to him. “Tell me. I wanna know.”

“Yes,” she said.

Lucas checked the results.

“What did you do?”

“Killed my husband.”

There was no noise except for the scratching of the polygraph machine. He didn’t bother to check the results this time. Instead, he stared at her, his eyes fixed on her face.

“How’d ya do that?”

“We were comin’ outta the bar – the one I worked in when you saw me. We were the last ones out. He wanted to fuck me by the side of the road but was so drunk he couldn’t get it up. Started shoutin’ at me, tellin’ me it was my own fault cos I was such an ugly bitch. Then he passed out drunk on the sidewalk. You know that road, right? How fast the trucks go along it, ‘specially at night? Well, I stood there awhile, thinkin' about all the shitty things he’d done to me over the years, and I thought: ‘This is my chance. This is my chance to get rid of that abusive bastard an’ get my life back.’ So I dragged him further into the road and left. Hid in the trees. Not 5 minutes later, along comes a truck, and....well. It killed him.”

“You saw it?”

“Yes.”

“What did it look like?”

“His head burst. Like a watermelon.” She made an explosive gesture with her hands to show him. “Blood and brains everywhere. Took a long time for the truck to stop. Smeared his worthless head must o’ been a mile down the road.”

“Were you sorry afterwards?”

Ellen looked him in the eye.

“Not a bit. That man deserved to die ‘n’ I’m glad he’s gone. World’s a better place without him in it.”

Lucas stood up. The baggy grey sweatpants he wore were tented at the crotch.

A murder-boner, she thought randomly. He ripped the sensors off her and lifted her to her feet, grabbing her face in his hands and kissing her fiercely. Ellen was confused – this wasn’t his usual MO. Suddenly unable to cope with this change in routine, she panicked briefly before kissing him back the best she could.  
When he finally tore his mouth away, he was breathing heavily.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand.

This was also new. He pulled her into the bedroom, kissing her again when they got there, his hands digging into her hair with something she could only conclude was passion. He lifted her dress, this time not just far enough to get it out of the way, but all the way off.

After being used as a human fleshlight for so long, his sudden interest in her body as a whole was disconcerting. She wondered if he'd killed before, or if he wanted to. Wondered if he thought that killing her husband made her like him, created a connection. Or did just the concept of murder turn him on?

Whatever it was, Lucas didn’t appear in the least self-conscious. Since that first disastrous attempt when he'd come in her hand, treating her like nothing more than a pussy on legs seemed to be a coping mechanism, a way of overcoming his insecurities and managing to get in and get off without disgracing himself. Now, he groped her ass like he owned it, sucking her tongue into his mouth hungrily. The force of his grinding was in danger of overbalancing them both, and she put her arms around him for support. Then she was being lifted, carried, laid on the bed. He climbed on top of her, his hands going to her breasts, his teeth fastening onto her neck, causing a sharp, sweet pain.

Ellen was confused - physically and emotionally. The same method he'd used to disassociate himself during sex had also served her well, but his hands and mouth were awakening her own dormant urges. 

Theoretically, she did not want this. In actuality, her hands crept under the hem of his t-shirt, sliding over his ribs and spine, feeling the scant flesh and knotted muscle that covered them. He seemed to be composed entirely of sinew and coiled sexual tension.

His mouth transferred from her throat to her breastbone, crawling over her skin, nipping at the tender undersides of her breasts before his lips found a nipple a fastened round it. She dug her nails into the small of his back, sucking in air as his tongue tormented her.

Ellen felt her hips rising as if of their own volition, bumping against the stiffness of his hard on. Lucas continued his ravenous path down her body, leaving a wet trail along her tattoo before latching on to the healed appendectomy scar, tracing its line, biting and sucking. She thought he might be excited by the evidence that a scalpel had once sliced into her, opened her body to a surgeon's delving instruments and educated fingers.

Even as the thought was in her mind, she felt Lucas’s fingers enter her, long digits probing the place normally occupied by his cock, sliding in easily. He finger-fucked her as he devoured her scar, sucking at the flesh till it was rosy.

Ellen closed her eyes as he rummaged in her pussy, sighing at the unexpected pleasure. When he extracted his fingers, she experienced a surge of disappointment.

“Huh?”

She opened her eyes. Lucas was staring at his hand in confusion, and when she followed his gaze she saw that his first two fingers where shiny with blood.

“Oh!” She propped herself up on her elbows, her face flushing. “My period! Shit, I'm sorry….” Wondering why she was apologising for something she had absolutely no control over.

Lucas frowned at her.

“Ain't your fault,” he pointed out accurately. “And ‘sides, don't bother me none.”

With a shrug, he stuck has fingers in his mouth.

She watched with mixed feelings has he sucked his hand clean. Her husband had declared periods disgusting and thereafter always demanded anal when she was on - a logic she had never understood. Apparently the possibility of shit was better than the certainty of blood. But she'd never had a sexual partner so unconcerned by her menses before.

Lucas pulled his wet fingers from his mouth, briefly flicking his tongue between them to clean s missed smear of blood. He looked down to her parted thighs. Then he put his face between them.

Ellen’s breath caught in her throat as his tongue stabbed into her, spearing her pussy on the end of it. She felt his teeth graze the sensitive flesh as he pushed his face harder against her, shoving her along the bed with the muscles in his neck. Her arms collapsed under her and she fell back onto the bed as his hands reached up to grasp her hips, his thumbs digging into her, holding her firmly against him.

Unable to escape his burrowing tongue, Ellen gave herself up the building arousal, concentrating on the way his nose ground against her clit. Something was happening, for the first time since she'd arrived here. She reached down and clamped her clawed hand onto the back of his head, digging her heels into the mattress. One of them was moaning, and she realised it had to be her.

All too soon, he stopped, leaving her gasping in frustration. Lucas sat back on his haunches, grinning down at her, blood smearing his lips like warped clown makeup. With one hand he grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down at the front, freeing his cock.

“Fuck! You taste good.” He ran his scarlet tongue over his bloodied teeth. Ellen felt a wave of nausea at the thought of him kissing her. He laughed, rubbing the back of his hand across his lips, leaving a long, rusty stain. He snaked his left arm underneath her, lifting her ass, grabbing his cock and forcing it downwards. She felt the head touch her pussy, and then he was in.

She'd heard that the G-Spot was a sexual myth, but as he began to pound into her, the angle of her pelvis was causing the tip of his prick to bump against an area that suddenly felt fucking great. Her eyes opened wide, and she snatched convulsively at handfuls of the sheets beneath her. He wasn't looking at her face, so he couldn't have known the effect he was having on her. Instead, he was concentrating on the juncture of his cock and her pussy, watching it slide in and out, slick with blood. 

From his strained grimace, she knew he wasn't going to last long, and in a desperate attempt to keep him inside her till she could come she lifted her legs and wrapped them round his skinny waist. She was so close - so close!

But then he shuddered, his eyes rolling up, mouth dropping open in a stupefied expression, and she knew he'd finished.

She let out a long, cheated groan, panting in frustration. His cock slipped out of her and as he drifted out of post-coital daze he appeared to notice the state she was in.

“Was that good?” he asked, sounding astonished.

Ellen gave him a shaky smile, wanting to cry for the first time in she didn't know how long.

“It was the best,” she assured him.

Looking caught between disbelief and pride, Lucas climbed off her, using the hem of his shirt to wipe the blood from his cock and belly before stuffing himself back in his pants. There was more blood around the waistband, turning the grey fabric black.

“Guess I better wash up and go get you somethin’ to deal with your situation,” he said, and left the room.

The second the door closed her hand was between her legs. Ellen knew she had to be quick. She didn't know if Lucas was the sort of man to take a woman masturbating as an affront to his prowess, but she had to come. She planted her feet apart on the blood-spattered sheet and began to rub frantically at herself, her clit burning from the friction under her fingers. There was no finesse, no slow build up, just a sudden crashing orgasm hitting her like the speeding truck that had killed her husband. She pressed her lips together to muffle her scream, her knees shaking as the sensation crested and exploded between her legs.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…..” It was a hiss, barely a fraction of the sound she needed to produce. Not giving the high time to die down, she treated herself to another, just as quick and savage, feeling her pussy clenching on nothing, wishing Lucas’s cock was still wedged in her, bruising that special spot he'd blundered upon quite by accident. Next time, she promised herself, next time he fucked her it was going to be in that exact same position. “Fuckyeah…..” She bit her lips so hard she drew blood and, tasting it, pictured Lucas on his knees, eating her out and not giving a fuck about her period. One more for luck. Surely she fucking deserved it after all she'd been through. Her fingers ached but she persevered, coaxing one more orgasm from her surprised body. Best one yet. She threw back her head, arched her back. Holy fuck.

She subsided, melting onto the mattress. By the time Lucas returned, washed and changed, his backpack over his shoulder, she was serene, her fingers clean, a lazy smile on her face.

 

That night - she assumed it was night - they went to bed together. Normally, Ellen fell asleep on the sofa or went to bed before Lucas, with him joining her later, but this time when she went into the bedroom Lucas put down what he'd been working on and followed her. She assumed she was going to be fucked, and she was. Very conventionally, but with lot a more attention to her other body parts, not just her pussy, which was a change. Afterwards, instead of leaving to continue his work, he stayed.

It was a narrow bed, but Lucas didn't take up much room.

Ellen was just drifting off to sleep when he spoke, his voice sounding thoughtful in the darkness.

“Is there anyone still alive you hate as much as you hated your husband?”

Startled awake, she could not divine the purpose behind his question, but she didn't have to think about her reply.

“Lonny. My boss,” she answered without hesitation

“Why d’ya hate him so much?”

She sighed.

“When Zack died I needed to get a job to support myself. He hadn't allowed me to work before. Said he didn't want me mixin’ with other men. So I didn't have much experience workin’. I went to Lonny cause he'd been a friend o’ Zack’s and I thought maybe he'd give me a job outta some sorta loyalty. He did. But as I was leavin’ his office, feelin’ relieved, he called me back in. Said he had somethin he wanted to show me.” She paused. “It was a video. CCTV from the night Zack died. Caught the whole thing.”

“Shiiit….”

“Uh-huh. Told me he wanted somethin' in return for him not showin' the video to the cops. ‘n’ that's why I've been blowin' him once a week after work for the past five years.”

“Guess you hate him a lot then, huh?”

“You got that right. I hate that fucker’s guts - an’ he's got a lotta them.”

Lucas didn't ask her anything else, but as she settled down to sleep again, she felt his arm creep around her and pull her slightly closer.

It was a few days later. She thought they were days. Lucas was dressed to go out, but not in his normal filthy disguise. Dark clothes.

“I shouldn't be more than a day or so,” he said, and she fought to suppress the panic that was welling up inside.

“Where ya goin’? Why?” She was wringing her hands, the thought of being alone for that long causing her more anxiety than she thought possible. “What if somethin’ happens and ya don't come back?”

“I'll be back. I promise. There's just somethin’ I have to do.”

“You really promise? Really really?”

“I promise, Ell. I'll be back. Don't worry.”

She watched him walk to the armoured door, wanting to chase after him and wrap herself around him so he couldn't leave. She could imagine dozens of scenarios in which he didn't come back, leaving her alone down there, going slowly insane, until supplies ran out and she starved to death.

And then he had gone, the door clicking shut behind him with the finality of a tomb door closing.

 

He'd left her a fresh stack of horror movies and she played them without really watching, just for the background noise. She took long baths, masturbated till her clit was sore, slept, talked to Aunt Ruby about her fears so obsessively that even Aunt Ruby got bored and left her alone. She found Lucas’s stash of Twinkies and ate them till she puked.  
With no way to measure time she had no idea how long Lucas had been gone. It felt like forever. She imagined dozens more scenarios in which he was dead. She dreamed of archaeologists finding her starved body centuries later.

 

“C’mon, sleepyhead. Time to rise and shine.”

She opened her eyes, squinting against the sudden light. Lucas was back, standing next to the bed and grinning down at her.

The relief at his return was so intense for a moment that she didn’t know how to deal with it. She wanted to hurl herself out of bed and flatten him, chain him up so he couldn’t leave again. Instead, she rolled over onto her back, pushing down the covers and opening her legs to give him access, assuming that was what he wanted. It was what he usually wanted.

Lucas laughed.

“You’re eager, ain'tcha? Did you miss me?”

She nodded, slightly embarrassed at the strength of her feelings.

“Aw, well I’m back now. And there’s plenty of time for that later. Now sit up. I got somethin’ for ya.”

Ever obedient, she struggled into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Something landed in her lap: a bulky envelope, creased and dirty. She looked up at him questioningly, for the first time noticing the state he was in. His eyes were so red and sunken it looked like he hadn’t slept the entire time he’d been away. There was a tear in his hoodie, and something brown that looked like dried blood spattered over it.  
Following her gaze, he looked down at himself, fingering one of the stains.

“That? Oh. Don’t give that no mind. It ain’t my blood.” He gestured excitedly towards the package. “Go on, now – open it!”

She ripped it open. A battered VHS tape fell onto her lap. Curiously, she picked it up and examined the label. There was just a date on it. One from roughly five years before.

She gasped.

“Is this....?” she couldn’t finish.

“Yep!” Lucas clapped his hands delightedly together, jiggling like a child on the edge of the bed. “It’s the footage o’ you and yer husband. Only copy too, I reckon.”

“Are you sure?”

“I watched it. It is. And you were right about yer husband’s head,” he giggled.

“But how did you get it?” She turned it over in her hands, unable to grasp the enormity of it.

“Was in a safe in his office.”

“But the combination...he never tells anyone....”

Lucas’s grin widened, becoming more sinister.

“He told me.”

“I – I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “I mean, thank you, but why?”

“It’s your birthday!” Lucas laughed as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

She smiled.

“What else do you get the woman who has everything, right? Anyways, that ain't all I gotcha. Get up. Best is yet to come.”

She got out of bed and looked for her dress. It wasn't where she'd left it. In its place were 3 more, all new.

“Yeah, figured you could use some more. These should actually fit.”

She picked the red one, slipping it over her head. It was pretty. There was some lace. After her period of solitude and the accompanying anxiety, suddenly this small thing seemed too much for her to handle. She started to cry.

“Hey…..come on now….” Lucas looked surprised and uncomfortable.  
“Don't be like that. It's your birthday.”

Ellen tried to control the unexpected snivelling, not knowing if it would annoy him, but the tears wouldn't stop. She wasn't even sure why she was crying. If he'd come back and simply fucked her before she was fully awake, she could have coped - could have accepted it and immediately settled back into the familiar routine. But all this was new and somehow frightening.

She wanted him to hug her, comfort her, but he looked awkward and uncertain faced with this unbridled display of emotion. Their physical contact had been for sex and control till now.

Ellen took deep gulping breaths, wiped her eyes. Offered him an embarrassed smile. He seemed relieved.

“That's better. No need for all that.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let's get goin’ now. Time's a-wastin’.”

She followed him, recoiling in horror when he went to the main door and punched in the code.

He looked back at her.

“It's ok. You'll be safe. We ain't goin’ far.”

Still she hesitated. He held his hand out. She took it, finding comfort in the long fingers wrapping round her own. They went through the door.

Even the narrowest corridor felt huge after her confinement. She clung to his hand like she had the first time, glued to his side. They entered a large, lofty space, lit up by Christmas tree lights strung about the walls. There were stalls, rotting hay. And monsters. They milled around in a group, staring up at the wooden floor above them.

Ellen gasped at the sight of them.

“Don't mind them,” said Lucas. “They won't bother you.”

He led her to a flight of stairs uncomfortably close to the mouldy crowd. 

She could smell them, damp mixed with shit, it seemed.

At the top of the stairs, she stopped abruptly. Lucas cackled.

“Surprise!” he crowed.

Lonny, her boss, sat tied to a chair. He wore his usual outfit of too-tight grey pants, his considerable belly flopping over the belt, and a stained, yellowing undershirt. He was gagged and showed evidence of a recent beating, one eye swollen nearly shut, blood crusted under his nose. There were bruises and minor cuts over his arms. She doubted it had taken much to get him to tell the combination to his safe - he'd probably squealed before Lucas had even properly started. Most of the damage was likely Lucas just having fun.

There was a square cutaway beneath him, some kind of trapdoor contraption, and a long rope tied around his ankles, tethered somewhere up above in the rafters. The attention of the moulded made sense now, although she didn't know why they hadn't simply climbed the stairs.

Lucas pried his hand from her grip and walked over to the large lever near his captive. Lonny started to grunt and struggle, rocking the chair on its legs, casting a pleading gaze at Ellen.

She remembered the first time she'd blown him. She'd cried, but it hadn't deterred him. She'd knocked on the door to his office and entered. He'd been sitting at his desk, a plate of hotdogs in front of him, shoving one into his mouth, devouring half in one gigantic bite. He hadn't spoken, merely pushed his chair back from the desk and pointed to his lap.  
He'd had to lift his belly out of the way so she could get to his fly and the short, stubby cock it guarded. His personal hygiene was questionable, and she'd gagged on her first mouthful. He'd continued eating his hotdogs as she’d sucked, crumbs and at one point a large glob of mustard falling into her hair. It had taken forever just to get him hard.

Ellen walked over to the chair in which he was sat, her birthday gift, perfectly wrapped. She spat in his face.

Lucas laughed raucously.

“That's my girl. D’you like your present?”

“I love it,” she said, watching the desperate throes of Lonny trying to escape. “Can I pull the lever?”

“Hold up just a minute, sweetheart. Got a little somethin’ planned before the grand finale.”

He walked over to a door she hadn't noticed and opened it.

The thin that lurched out had once been human. About 40% of it still was.

The mould was taking over. He – It? – looked like it was being swallowed by a pulsating black mass that was disfiguring its human parts. One hand swung by its side, still having distinct fingers and a thumb, but the other had already transformed into a monstrous claw.

It walked with a lopsided gait, its one human foot struggling to support the weight of the infection that had warped its other side. The oily black substance swirled over its torso in sinewy trails like some sort of toxic armour plating.

Tragically, most of the human face could still be seen, although a second, deformed mouth was already sprouting from the top of its head, huge twisted fangs gaping in the unnatural maw. Part of its original mouth was glued shut by the mess, half sealed together, causing the sound that came from the human lips to be distorted to a sodden gargle.  
The eyes turned this way and that, disturbingly sentient, weeping black goo as it took in its surroundings.

“Lonny,” announced Lucas. “I’d like you to meet Travis. You and him gotta lot in common, believe it or not. Y’see, Travis likes blowjobs too. Don’tcha, Travis?”

The thing looked uncomprehendingly at Lucas, a weird slurping sound emitting from its lopsided mouth.

“Problem is, “ Lucas continued. “Poor Travis here ain’t had one for a long time. So you’re gonna help him out!”

Lucas cackled shrilly, thoroughly enjoying Lonny’s distress. The fat man uttered muffled screams from behind his duct-tape gag, struggling against his bonds so fiercely the chair looked like it would collapse.

“Travis!” called Lucas. “Travis, over here. Y’see this? This here’s Courtney. Ya remember Courtney? Yer girlfriend? Well, she’s missed you a lot an’ wants you to know she’d like nothin’ better than to give you a nice, long blowjob. How ‘bout that?”

Travis stared at Lonny in confusion.

“Aw, Lonny, looks like you ain’t convincin’ enough, even to Travis’s mushy old brain. Hang on, I got somethin’ that’ll help.”

Evidently prepared, Lucas ducked away and produced a long, blonde wig that he proceeded to force onto the other man’s head, Lonny’s own greasy hair protruding at odd angles from underneath.

“There now, that better? Looky, looky, Travis, look at Courtney. Ooh, she wants it real bad....”

Travis peered blearily at the man in the wig, then with a grunt staggered forward.

Ellen could see its cock, mottled with the black mould, beginning to rise, inky slime oozing from the tip as it waved back and forth like a divining rod.

Lonny began to shriek in earnest as it approached, the chair legs rattling against the wooden floor, wordless entreaties muffled behind the gag.

“Hey, thanks for the reminded there, buddy!” said Lucas. “Can’t give a blowjob with a gag on, right?”

He ripped off the gag, and Lonny’s screams began to echo around the barn. Down below, the ghastly moaning of the Moulded rose in response.

Travis stood in front of Lonny, swaying, before finally apparently reaching a decision and clamping the man’s head between its mismatched hands. Lonny’s mouth tried to clamp shut as the disfigured cock hovered in front of his face, but with a jagged roar the thing shoved forward and forced its way between his lips. Teeth cracked and splintered, chips of enamel flying off in all directions. Lonny’s screams were abruptly cut off as the mould-slicked organ lodged in his throat. His eyes bulged from their sockets. Travis began to thrust, holding the man’s head firmly in place to be face-fucked, blood dribbling over its cock and the down the victims chin.

Lucas wandered over to stand next to Ellen, and they both watched with fascination as Lonny puked, yellow vomit spraying around Travis cock. Without realising what she was doing, she grabbed Lucas’s hand with both of her own, squeezing it convulsively as she watched the events unfold. Lucas smiled at her, squeezing back.

Travis was nearly finished. Lonny had passed out, whether from the horror or lack of oxygen she didn’t know. Travis gave one final, spastic push, a roar wrung from its clogged throat as it came, black pus squirting through the gaps in Lonny’s ruined teeth.

The thing withdrew, releasing Lonny’s head before looking down at its left claw in confusion. It seemed in the throes of passion, it had accidentally ripped one of Lonny’s ears off.  
Travis looked at Lucas for guidance.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, Travis. Accidents happen. You jest toss that thing down. You can go downstairs and join the others if you like.”

Travis grunted, dropping the ear, before turning and lumbering off.

Lucas extricated his hand from hers.

“Hold on there, baby. Can’t let Lonny here off that easy.”

He grabbed a bucket of water that had been set down in the shadows and ambled over to his unconscious victim. Lonny’s head lolled, a mixture of blood, vomit, drool and black spunk oozing from his mouth. The blonde wig sat askew on his head.

Lucas heaved the contents of the bucket into the man’s face, and Lonny woke with a burbling groan.

“There now, Lonny. Ya did real good, considerin’. A bit more practice and you could be as good as Ellen here. Unfortunately, though, we ain’t got time to train you.”

Lucas turned to her, his eyes glinting dangerously, his smile of pure glee out of place.

“Do the honours then, Ellen honey. I think you earned it.” He gestured towards the lever.

She looked at Lonny, trying to beg through his throat full of mucous, ad remembered the mustard dropping into her hair. She strode forward and pulled the lever.

The trapdoor opened and Lonny fell through, his scream music to her ears. The rope around his ankles pulled taut, suspending him, chair and all, in the midst of the moulded mob below.

She ran to the hole in the floor and looked down, barely aware of Lucas joining her. The monsters soggy roars rose as they gathered around their victim, claws swinging. Lonny spun and bounced at the end of his rope, a human piñata for the creatures, waiting to spill his treats from inside.

Lonny’s screams reached a new pitch as a claw caught him across the face, the confused moulded trying to chew on the blonde wig it had dislodged. Another had got Lonny’s arm in its jaws and was worrying it, shaking its head as bones cracked. With a wet tearing sound, the upper part of the arm came away, the lower part still tied to the chair. It fell onto the floor.

“Come on, buddy, remember the five second rule!” called Lucas, shrieking with laughter.

The monster tried to pick the arm up, but a shuffling foot kicked it aside, causing a fresh peal of mirth.

Ellen watched the destruction of her boss silently. Beside her, Lucas continued to taunt and laugh, practically dancing with excitement. A strange feeling was building up inside her, one she couldn't properly identify. She turned and looked at the man next to her, his face alight with pleasure. The man who, to all intents and purposes, was her jailer, who kept her captive to fuck her whenever he wanted, but had given her the best birthday present she'd ever had.

Lucas felt her attention and grinned at her. Unable to stop, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms about his neck and locking her mouth onto his. She was hornier than she'd ever felt in her life - that was the feeling she couldn't place.

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. He kissed her back, his cock hard and ready, his hands grabbing at her ass. She stuck her tongue in his mouth deliriously, grappling at his back in an effort to push herself even closer to him. He lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, opening herself up to him eagerly. She stopped kissing him long enough to pull the new dress off. Before it was properly over her head, his mouth was on her breasts, sucking at her nipples. She arched her back into him, cradling his head in her hands, nearly sobbing with emotion.

Ellen felt a wall against her back, pinning her in place. She was vaguely aware of one of his hands leaving her and burrowing between them to get to his zip. She ground herself against him shamelessly, her clit hitting the big bone of his wrist.

She grabbed his head and tilted it up so she could kiss him again, biting on his lower lip, pulling. He shifted his hips and she could feel the tip of his cock nudging at her pussy. She bared her teeth at him and he grinned back at her. She suddenly slipped downwards, gasped as she felt like she was falling, but he had her. She plunged down onto the full length of his cock, impaled on it. He began his thrusts, the hard shoves she craved. She rode his hard on with a dizzy relish, gripping his shoulders to help as she lurched up and down. With a small adjustment, she found his belt buckle, and used it to her advantage, pressing her clit against it. The pleasure was immediate, and she cried out.  
“Don't come yet, don't come yet!” she begged him as she hurried towards her own orgasm, rubbing frantically, his cock filling her completely. One of his fingers slipped into her ass, completing the degradation and adding the extra element she didn't know she needed.

“Fffffuuuuucccckkkk…..”

The orgasm was thunderous, filling her ears with the sound of her own heartbeat. At the last second, Lucas bit into her throat, his teeth bruising her, and it was so good she came a second time, before the first had even subsided.

She collapsed against him, dimly aware of his own cracked moans as he spat his load into her, huffing against her neck. Her head lolled onto his shoulder.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured in her ear.


	5. God Grante That She Lye Stille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas meets some old acquaintances. Briefly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter relies heavily on my short story "Lucas’s First Kiss", so if you haven't read that......
> 
> Did very limited research on the effects of lye solution on human skin. Didn't really want to watch the video that accompanied it. Poetic license activated.

She was outside. It had been so long that the sensory overload was almost orgasmic. Lucas wanted to hurry her, but she was stubborn, processing each bit of information separately before she could accept it as a whole. There was damp grass under her bare feet, and she closed her eyes, inhaling the composty aroma of moist, swamp air. Some nocturnal insect whizzed past her ear, the tiny buzzing sound monstrous after so long indoors with only the constant background hum of electronics - a sound she wasn't  even aware she'd been hearing until it was gone.

“C’mon Ellen…..” Lucas’s voice was whiny and petulant, his impatience only barely checked, but she ignored him. He came out here all the time - he didn't have to acclimatise.

She was scared to look up into the vast bowl of the sky, afraid she'd be overwhelmed by all the sudden space. She'd glimpsed it as they'd stepped outside the door, the clear night a backdrop to the thousands of stars and a swollen moon, and the tumult of sensations had produced a panicky feeling almost like vertigo.

Impatient or not, Lucas waited anyway. He'd woken her from a sound sleep, as was becoming a custom with him, and urged her to follow him. Ellen had half expected to be taken to the barn again, there to come face-to-face with the high-school teacher who had called her a slut for wearing a top that left her shoulders bare, or the man in the park who'd grabbed her ass when she was only 12 - anything was possible with Lucas. Instead they were here, on the overgrown lawn they'd crossed to safety when Lucas had first brought her out of the cells.

She opened her eyes. There was an old trailer ahead of her, one she must have passed the first time but had been too terrified to notice. There were signs of life in it - lamplight filtering through shabby curtains, the shadow of a fan moving beyond, the faint smell of cigarettes.

“That's my sister's trailer,” Lucas told her, his voice low. “We're gonna haveta sneak past - she don't know I got you.”

“Is she….like your parents?” asked Ellen, matching his tone. She still wasn't sure why his parents instilled such fear in him, but his warning about them had stuck in her mind the whole time.

“Naw, she's like me. Just that she's nosey. An’ a pain in the ass. C’mon.”

The grass swished past her bare legs, tickling them as she walked. It was curiously sensual, and she suppressed a little shudder that was nearly pleasure. Feeling braver now, she risked looking up. The sky was a deep, translucent indigo, just past dusk, the edges still luminous from the sunset. Had she ever really appreciated how  _ big  _ it was? Probably not. Who would?

They passed through the shadow of the trailer, hearing a voice from inside, humming. An old folk song she nearly recognised, transformed into a dirge by the mournful tone of the person singing it. The tune seemed to unnerve Lucas, and he grabbed her hand, hurrying her along.

There was a rusted gate in front of them. Lucas must have been at work oiling hinges regularly, as it didn't make a sound when he pushed it open. Once through it, he seemed to relax.

“We should be ok now,” he said. “We don't have to worry about momma or the old man comin’ out - they're entertainin’ guests tonight.”

Ellen didn't know why the innocent phrase should have such sinister connotations, but it did, and she looked back over her shoulder at the dark silhouette of the looming old house, wondering what sort of entertainment the evening entailed.

They were on a wooden path, slippery with moss, the planks slightly spongy and unpleasant underfoot, but there was no sign of the greasy black mould. There was thick undergrowth on either side, cypress trees forming a canopy overhead, effectively shielding them. The night air was thick and sultry, but fresh enough after so long underground, and it was making her feel strangely turned on. Were they going to fuck out here? She hoped so. They'd probably be eaten alive by insects, but it would be worth it. She'd always liked outdoor fucking.

“There any monsters out here?” she asked. It would put a damper on things if there were.

“Only gators,” said Lucas. “But they won't bother us.”

“What would you do if they did?”

“Rip ‘em apart with ma bare hands!” he bragged, and she giggled. The night air was making her giddy, and as they made their way down the path towards the water, hand in hand, she almost felt like she was on a date.

A series of rickety bridges criss-crossed over the water, cutting routes through the swamp to various outbuildings on stilts. Lucas tramped across confidently, unconcerned about them spilling into the murky water, but Ellen trailed after him with a little more trepidation, not liking the way the structures rocked and creaked underfoot. She kept a close eye out for gators, too, despite his reassurance, regarding each log and shadow with suspicion. As she scanned the horizon, she thought she saw a huge, hulking shape rearing up out of the bayou - incongruous to the point that her brain wouldn't allow her to identify it. She tugged on Lucas’s sleeve.

“What's that? Is it a buildin’?”

Lucas looked at it grimly.

“Would ya believe me if I told you it was a ship?” he said.

“A ship? How the fuck did a ship get into the goddam  _ swamp _ ?”

Lucas sighed.

“It's a long story…..” He looked at her. “Maybe I'll tell you when we get back.”

She wanted to know, but talking about it seemed to make him sad. She shrugged.

“Only if you want to.”

He nodded, and continued to lead the way.

 

They reached a pier, piled up with crates and broken chains, junk everywhere. Access was across a narrow bridge, covered with algae, that was more treacherous than she cared for. She held onto Lucas’s arm in a death grip as she edged across.

“Sorry we had ta come the long way round,” said Lucas, dragging a bunch of keys from his pocket. “Need to put a doorway in or somethin’...”

“I don't mind,” replied Ellen honestly. “Was nice to get outside. You gonna tell me why we're here now?”

He'd been close-mouthed as usual, refusing to tell her the reason for their jaunt.

“You'll see,” he told her, selecting a key and unlocking the door.

There was a short corridor, then another door which he also unlocked, and then they were in a wooden room that looked like an office.

There was a desk with an old tv on it, propped up on old cans of some sort, a panel of buttons and switches next to it. She recognised the setup, having seen him working on it and even helping him sometimes, holding things in place while he soldered. Since Lonny’s spectacular demise, he'd been more open and companionable, choosing to work out on the table in their rooms rather than behind his locked door.

Curious, and starved of new scenery, she looked round the room. There was a noticeboard on one wall, with pictures of people on it, but before she could read the notes underneath, Lucas spoke.

“I kinda….I wanted you here with me when I did this.” He looked uncomfortable, uncertain, as if he were sharing something very personal. “I dunno why. See, I did Lonny for you. Not to say I didn't enjoy seein’ that bastard get ‘is comeuppance, but it was all for you. Y’know that, right?”

“Sure I know it, Lucas. Don't think I didn't appreciate it, cuz I did. It was probably the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me. What you tryin’ ta say to me?”

He considered her for a minute then, apparently satisfied, he turned and switched on the tv.

“This one's for me,” he told her.

A picture appeared on the tv, grainy at first, then sharpening. It showed a small, boxy room, empty but for a large vat with tubing sprouting from it, and two girls strapped into chairs.

Lucas sat down in an old swivel office chair. It hissed as he sat in it, ancient hydraulics sighing under the pressure before settling down. He watched her as she examined the girls on the screen.

They weren't extraordinary in any way: Just average townies, too much makeup, too much bleach in their hair. Not from wealthy families, but probably just well-off enough to be able to look down on someone like Lucas, the boy from the swamp. She'd encountered her share of them at school herself, girls who were no better than anyone else, acting like they were something special. She'd seen their type often enough in the bar, too, giggling with their boyfriends, feeling like they were slumming it just enough without it being too dangerous. She'd seen them pointing at her, sly hands shielding their mouths, judging her.

“Who are they?” she asked finally.

His long index finger touched the screen briefly, identifying the two weeping girls.

“That one's Becky. That one there is Janine.” He looked up at her, his face carefully neutral. “I went to school with them.”

Ellen looked at the monitor a while longer. She knew she had a choice. He hadn't locked the door behind them, and he wasn't holding her there in any way. She could walk out, and judging by his demeanour she thought he wouldn't stop her. Would probably walk her back to what she now thought of as home and leave her there to come back and do…. _ this _ . But something would be lost if she did. If she walked away, something between them would die. And if it did, maybe she would die too. She could never be too sure with Lucas, much as she liked to think he held some affection for her.

And there was another part of her, less cynical, less calculating, that pointed out that Lucas had kidnapped, tortured and killed Lonny for her. He'd reminded her of that only minutes ago. And she'd participated. So who was she to judge after that?

She walked over to him and perched on his knee, slipping an arm around his shoulders. A look that was possibly relief spread over his face, his own arm snaking around her waist cosily.

“Tell me about them,” she said, leaning against him.

She half-listened to Lucas’s tale whilst she studied the girls, paying enough attention to him to be able to interject pertinent comments:

“In the hall, in front of everyone? Oh no!”

“She really said that? What a bitch….”

His other arm went round her as he spoke, pulling her more firmly onto his lap. His fingers were restless, smoothing her dress over her knees, fiddling with the fabric, drumming a rhythm on her thigh.

His grievances wouldn't have sounded like much to some people, but she could understand how something could cut so deep to someone like Lucas, and as he told her about the girls’ crimes, she could feel the hurt in him, feel his helpless rage at the humiliation.  She stroked the scant fluff on the back of his head, suddenly feeling protective of him.

“So what you got planned for them?” she asked when he'd finished his rant.

“Sodium hydroxide,” he told her then, pointing to the large vat. Noticing her blank look, he elaborated: “Lye. Got it wired to a drip feed. You seen what lye can do to skin, even when it's diluted? ”

She shook her head, looking at the tubes and wires with horrified fascination.

“I haven't seen it, but I've heard. Burns, don't it?”

“Worse….” He sniggered. “Jest you wait ‘n’ see.”

The girls were duct taped to chairs that looked like old dentist chairs, the type that needed a foot to pump a lever to reposition them, but she could see cables trailing from them and figured Lucas had been able to remove that human function too. Becky’s feet dangled off the end of hers. She was taller than her friend. They both been positioned so their heads could be strapped to the chair and hold them immobile.

“Took a while to get ‘em set up right,” Lucas confided. “Gotta have the drips controlled. Don't want the lye finishin’ them off too soon.”

Ellen leaned forward, examining the room minutely.

“Shoulda put some mirrors in there Lucas,” she remarked. “What's the point o’ disfigurin’ ‘em if they can't see what you done?”

His face fell for a second before creasing into a grin again.

“Aw, guess it don't matter. They can see each other. Best get started now. Be cruel to keep ‘em waitin’, right?”

 

Lucas leaned over a pressed a button. On the screen, the two girls jumped and shrieked as an intercom crackled into life.

“Well now, ladies. Welcome to my humble abode! It's not often I have guests, so you'll have to excuse the mess, but I'm sure you'll be willin’ to overlook that on account o’ the circumstances.”

“Who is that?” Becky demanded. “Is that Lucas Baker?”

She struggled against her bonds, trying vainly to look around and see where the disembodied voice was coming from.

“It is, ain't it?”

“I guess I should be flattered you recognised my voice after all this time,” mused Lucas.

Becky snorted. Her realisation as to who their captor was seemed to have converted her fear to anger.

“Warn’t such a long shot. What other freak would do somethin’ like this? It almost had ta be Lucas Baker. You ain't changed a bit!”

Lucas sniggered. Whatever this girl had done to him at school, the tables had firmly turned, and nothing she said could wound him now.

“Becky, I gotta say I am shocked at your rudeness. But I guess I shouldn't expect any better from the likes o’ you. And might I point out, you are in no position to be castin’ insults. Take a good look around, bitch. You see any help comin’?”

Becky sighed, an exaggerated huff of air.

“Lucas, I suggest you let me an’ Janine up right now and maybe I won't get the police involved. Although it's too late not to get Oliver involved. He finds out what you've done, he is gonna kick your skinny ass!”

Lucas smiled.

“Aw, Becky. You an’ I both know Oliver ain't around no more. Went off to college. In another state, no less. Looks like he couldn't get far enough away from you.”

“I'll have you know he went there because it was the best college to study his chosen subjects!” Becky replied furiously, twisting fruitlessly in her seat. “We Skype each other. All. The. Time.”

“Well pardon my ignorance!” exclaimed Lucas in mock horror. “Skype, you say? That's a surefire way to make sure he ain't cheatin’ on ya! I bet you can tell just by lookin’ at his pretty face that he ain't stickin’ it to any other girls….”

“I don't wanna hear anythin’ you gotta say!” snarled Becky. “I am done with your foolishness. Let us up NOW!”

“I’m afraid I can't do that Becky,” sighed Lucas. “Y’see, me, you and Janine there - “ Janine twitched and yelped at the mention of her name. “ - we got some history together. None o’ it good. And I ain't the type to forget. So you are gonna sit there and do what the fuck I want until this matter is resolved. Do you understand me?”

Becky snarled, baring her huge teeth.

“Yes, I understand, you son of a bitch.”

“Good. I'm glad.” Lucas sat back in satisfaction, his hand drifting down to stroke Ellen’s thigh through her dress. He smiled up at her pleasantly.

“How ‘bout you, Janine? Got anythin’ you wanna say?”

Janine sobbed brokenly.

“Please, Lucas, I'm sorry!” she sniffed. “Whatever it is I did, I'm sorry. Please, let me up! I won't tell nobody….”

Lucas was silent for a moment, and Ellen wondered if the girl's heartfelt plea had caused him to relent, but when he spoke again, it appeared his silence had been due to disbelief.

“‘Whatever it was you did’? You don't even fuckin’ remember?” He shook his head. “Have a real long think, Janine. See if you can recall any, uh, incidents that may have caused my disapproval.  Go on, now, have a fuckin’ try!”

Janine wept, looking around her with darting eyes.

“I don't know….I….um - ” Ellen heard her gasp. “Oh, shit! Lucas, I didn't wanna do it! Becky made me! I - I knew it was unkind but…..” She crumbled into a fresh fit of sobbing. “It warn’t my idea!”

Becky jerked in her chair furiously. 

“Don't you put all the blame on me, you little bitch!” She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. “She's right about one thing though, Lucas!” she called out. “She didn't wanna do it! Didn't wanna have to kiss you! Said it would make her puke!”

Janine gave a shocked howl, her face filled with betrayal.

“I never said that! I never said that, Lucas!” She licked her lips, swallowing down tears and snot. “I wanted to do it, really! Honest! Was lookin’ for an excuse, cause I knew they'd make fun o’ me if they knew I liked you….” She attempted a shaky smile. “I always did like you, Lucas. Really an’ truly. But I had to pretend I didn't. In fact…..if….um….if you let me up, I'll show you. Yeah?”

She searched for the camera through watery eyes, her face hopeful.

On Lucas’s lap, Ellen snorted her disbelief. He patted her leg, his grin of enjoyment almost satanic.

“Well, that's mighty temptin’, Janine. Out o’ interest, how exactly are you gonna show me that you like me, huh?”

“Um, well, I could kiss you again. Like before. Would you like that?” Her voice was brighter, the hope he'd allowed her affecting it.

“Oh, come on now. We're not in high school any more, Janine. I was thinkin’ o’ somethin’ a little more….adult…”

Janine swallowed.

“Do you wanna….uh...feel me, maybe? Touch my - my titties?”

Lucas leaned into the mic, making his voice conspiratorial.

“I was thinkin’ more along the lines of a blow job, Janine. What do ya think ‘bout that? Reckon you could blow me? To show me how devoted you are?”

Janine closed her eyes.

“Yes,” she said finally. “I could do that.”

“Ooh. Now we're gettin’ somewhere. You jest sit tight, honey, and I'll be right in there to set you free. And collect my blow job, o’ course.”

Lucas shut of the intercom, sitting back in his seat and laughing. He put both arms round Ellen, hugging onto her tightly.

“Stupid slut,” he snickered. “Sure didn't take her long to cave in now, did it?”

“You ain't gonna let her do it, are you Lucas?” asked Ellen worriedly. For a split second, she had imagined an entire scenario, of Lucas getting blown by Janine and deciding he liked it so much that he didn't need her any more.

“What? No, baby! Course not! I wouldn't let that skanky bitch anywhere near my meat! Ugh!” He shuddered. “‘Sides, I got you fer that. Don't need nobody else.”

Ellen relaxed, sinking against him, suddenly lightheaded with relief. His hand went to her face, touching her jaw with a gentleness that was unusual for him. Turning her face to his, he kissed her, his tongue probing her mouth slowly. His dick was getting hard, whether from the pressure of her on his lap or from his satisfaction at having those girls at his mercy, she didn't know, but his approach to her was different enough for it to be exciting despite the circumstances. He broke the kiss with a grin.

“Hang in there, honey. Think that's enough time to let ‘em sweat.”

 

The girls were talking, their voices strained and quiet yet full of intense animosity.

“You fuckin’ little no-good snake!” hissed Becky, the cords on her neck standing out. “What the fuck d’ya think yer doin’?”

Her self-possession gone, Becky’s carefully modified exterior collapsed, giving way to the trash that had been underneath the whole time.

“You gonna suck that ugly freak off just to save your own skin?”

Janine looked uncomfortable but defiant.

“I'm gonna do what I have to do to get outta here, Becky. Can’t blame me for that! You're just jealous cuz you didn’t get there first. It's your fault we're in this situation to begin with! You had to be a bitch, didn’t you? Well, I ain't fixin’ ta stay here ‘n’ fuckin’ die, so you wanna get out, you suck cock yerself!”

Becky’s long, somehow equine face twisted into a sneer.

“Janine, darlin’? I would never stoop so low as to blow Lucas Baker to save myself. I have too much self-respect…”

 

On the other side of the monitor, Ellen frowned.

“Boy, she sure thinks she's somethin’, don't she? Her cunt made outta gold or what?” she remarked.

Lucas cackled, clearly delighted.

“Far from it, I reckon, baby. Her cunt probably has a bear trap in it!”

“She wants one with an ATM in it so you could get the money you’d need to fuck her. I bet she's riddled with STIs too,” snorted Ellen.

She'd started out feeling, if not sympathetic towards them, at least bad that they were in their predicament. But whether it was her proximity to Lucas for so long a period or her own, buried feelings of resentment that made her hate them so much, she had no idea. All she knew was that at some point she'd slipped off the fence she'd been sitting on and crept over to Lucas’s side.

Lucas listened to them bickering for a while, a sour look on his face.

“I think we've heard enough.”

The intercom went back on, and the conversation in the room stopped.

“Sorry for the delay, ladies,” said Lucas cheerily. “But a thought occurred to me as I was about to come down there an’ loose Janine. Janine, honey, how do I know you're tellin’ the truth?”

Janine’s face showed her desperation.

“Why, you come down here ‘n’ I'll show you, Lucas! I said, didn't I?”

“Yeah, but any whore can blow a man if’n the incentive’s right, don't you agree? Naw, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to try somethin’ a little more scientific to figure you out, if you catch my drift. Now if you'll pardon me, I jest gotta reposition you both.”

Both girls went pale. Lucas’s chuckle drifted through the intercom, filling the small room.

He used an ancient Atari joystick to move the chairs, reclining them till the girls were stretched full length on their backs. It was an agonisingly slow process, doing one chair then the other, the motors old and tired. Janine started crying in earnest as she was manipulated. Becky seemed the harder of the two, but her face was twisted in distress. Finally, both girls were placed to his satisfaction.

“There now, that's better!”

He cleared his throat.

“S’pose I better tell you the rules to the game we're gonna play. Both o’ you, have a feel around under your right hands. No, that's your left, Janine. Yeah, that's better. There. Can ya feel a little plastic box? Good. Now, if you flip that box up, there should be a button underneath - don't press it! Not yet, anyways. Ladies, that there button is very important. Y’see, you're both wired up to a polygraph machine, otherwise known as a lie detector. You may have seen it on The Maury Show. Trash like you findin’ out who the baby daddy is. I'm gonna ask you both some questions. Now, if you lie to me, you get punished. If you tell the truth….who knows? Cause that button under yer hand right there? That controls the punishment you can dole out on yer friend. Clever, huh?”

“Lucas Baker, you are a sick bastard!” snarled Becky from her chair. “And you have seriously misjudged the type o’ people we are. We ain't like you! Do you really think we're gonna cooperate with you and fuckin’ torture each other?”

“That remains to be seen, don't it?” pointed out Lucas reasonably.  “Go ahead an’ prove me wrong if you like. Don't make no difference. You're in those chairs till I say otherwise. Now shut the fuck up and listen! Now. Janine. I betcha can guess the first question! Did you really like me in high school? Think carefully!”

Janine’s reply was immediate and desperate.

“Yes! Yes I did, Lucas!”

Lucas sighed. 

“Well, the lie-detector is tellin’ me that what you are sayin’ is a big, fat lie, Janine. That really hurts my feelin’s. But not as much as it's gonna hurt you.”

He fingered the red button.

“Brace yerself, Janine.”

For a moment, nothing happened, and Ellen thought Lucas’s contraption had failed, but then Janine flinched in her chair.

“What was that? What was that?!”

Becky struggled against her head strap, trying to look at her friend.

“What was it, Janine?”

“I dunno, it was somethin’ wet, and….oh! Oh! It burns, Becky! It burns!” Janine writhed helplessly in her chair. “Becky help me!”

“I can't!” Becky looked up at the camera, her face full of misery. “Stop hurtin’ her Lucas!”

Lucas ignored her plea.

“Now, Becky. Your turn. You ready? When you made that bet an’ Janine lost, did you make her kiss me to hurt me, or to hurt her?”

Becky’s lip trembled. She closed her eyes and didn't answer.

“Come on now, Becky. Speak up or you get a drop anyway. I'm gonna count down from 5….4…...3…..”

“Both!” screamed Becky. “It was both reasons. I wanted to piss you off but I wanted to see what I could make her do, too!”

“Well, looks like you're tellin’ the truth. But I'm curious. Why would you do that to your friend?”

“I don't know,” snivelled Becky. “Just because…..”

Lucas clicked his tongue.

“Now  _ that _ was a lie….”

He pressed the button. Becky screamed immediately from the shock of the wetness splashing onto her face, but as the lye began to do its work her screams reached a new pitch. Raising his voice to be heard, Lucas spoke over the noise.

“Tell us the real reason, Becky!”

Ellen could see a red patch on her face, on the apple of her cheek, but the video feed was too distant to show the chemical reaction working yet.

“For fun!” wailed Becky. “You happy now? I did it for shits and giggles, just cus I could! I knew she'd do it, she'd do anythin’ I said…..”

“Wow? You hear that Janine? You had to kiss me in front o’ all those people cus yer friend was on a fuckin’ power trip! How'd that make ya feel?”

Janine sobbed, shaking her head as best she could in the restraint.

“I don't care! It was a long time ago! Please...stop!”

“Janine, you've disappointed me. I’d’ve thought you'd have more spunk than that. Guess you're just yer typical doormat…...Oh, wait! Hang on, now, ladies, looks like Janine just told another lie! Looks like she  _ did _ care. Wow. Well, y’know what that means……”

Merciless, Lucas used his joystick to shift Janine’s chair a tiny amount, before pressing his button again. With her new position, the lye dripped onto a different part of her face. Janine screamed again.

“Shouldn't o’ lied, Janine. That weren't even your question, an’ look at what happened!” He laughed, shifting in his seat so that the fattest part of Ellen’s ass was directly over his stiffening dick. Janine was crying hard, tears trickling down the side of her face and pooling in her ears.

“Oughtta be careful with that there cryin’, Janine - can’t imagine it'll help the reaction of the lye if them tears mix with it. Anyways,  _ now _ it's your turn. Does a part o’ you hate your friend? Even just the itty-bittiest part?”

“I don't know!” bawled Janine. “Really! Pleeaase….”

“Gonna haveta be more specific than that, Janine, else you'll get another dose….” Lucas cautioned her.

He leaned over to his control board, using a smaller joystick that looked like it was from a remote control car to focus and zoom the camera. Now they could both see what the lye was doing, raising a small, whitish blister that seemed to froth.

“Looky, it's startin’ to dissolve the proteins in the skin cells - meltin’ the fat. That's how they make soap, y’know,” he told her in a hushed tone.

Ellen looked, fascinated despite her revulsion.

“How do you know all this stuff?” she whispered. “I mean, it's horrible, but it's amazin’ too. All this time, an’ I never realised how smart you were, Lucas….”

Lucas didn't answer, so she turned away from the hypnotic horror on the monitor to look at him. He was regarding her so keenly she felt uncomfortable.

“What?”

He squeezed her leg again, further up her thigh.

“You keep talkin’ like that, I might have to fuck you right here,” he warned.

Ellen shivered. Lucas treated sex like a basic function most of the time, a need much the same as eating, pissing or sleeping. Like scratching a troublesome itch, or stretching an aching muscle, he emptied his balls when they needed emptying. But when he was actively horny, she noticed the difference.  When she'd confessed to killing her husband, the way he'd been afterwards - how he’d eaten her out and how he'd fucked her with her menstrual blood still on his lips….. It was definitely worth making Lucas horny, she concluded.

He smiled at her, a calculating, wolfish leer, and she felt blood heating her cheeks. He turned back to the monitor, the hand round her waist more intimate now, his fingers caressing the curve of her hip.

“I'm still waitin’ for my answer, Janine,” Lucas reminded her. “Do you hate your friend, even slightly?”

“Yes!” It was a shout, angry and full of pain.

“And there we have the truth! There now, that weren't too hard now, was it?”

“I hate you too, you bastard!” sobbed Janine.

Becky gasped. Lucas merely chuckled.

“Well now, that's understandable considerin’. I won't take offence at that. Now. Becky. You ever cheated on a partner? And by that I guess I mean Oliver, since you been dating him since middle school.”

Becky bit her lip. He swivelled the camera in to study her face.

“Do I need to remind you - “ he began, but Becky interrupted him.

“Yes! I did. Ok? Are you happy now?”

“I'm moderately happy,” admitted Lucas. “How about you, Janine?”

“No. I haven't.”

“The loyal type, huh? Well done…”

He trailed off as Ellen whispered in his ear. She hated herself for her contribution, but she'd noticed Janine’s body language earlier when something was mentioned, and she wanted to see if she was right.

Lucas raised his eyebrows, looking at her with new respect.

“I'm wonderin’, though,” he said into the mic. “How far does your loyalty go, Janine?”

“I don't understand….”

“You ain't cheated on yer man. Ok. But you ever cheated on yer friend?”

Janine went rigid in her chair.

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Oh, you do Janine. Tell me: How d’ya feel about Oliver?”

Janine’s tears had been under control since his warning about a possible reaction with the lye, but they began again now. Lucas tightened his grip on Ellen, clearly excited by the girl's response.

“You did good, baby,” he murmured to Ellen, too low for the mic to pick up.

“Do I get a reward?” she asked, her lips close to his ear.

She expected him to laugh, but his reply was serious, and so full of hunger she felt goosebumps prickle her skin.

“Oh, yeah, you sure do. Just you wait ‘n’ see…..” He moved his hips in the chair, his eternal hard on getting really personal beneath her. Raising his voice, he addressed Janine again.

“You like Oliver? Your best friend's man? Course you do. I imagine he's real charmin’....”

As he spoke, his hand crept to her breast, stroking it through the thin fabric. He'd been insistent she wear the red one for this little outing, but at the time all she'd wondered why he was suddenly showing an interest in what she wore. It was only now she realised that the last time she'd worn it was on her birthday.

“Does he make you hot, Janine?” continued Lucas in a confidential tone. His thumb flicked at Ellen’s nipple, coaxing it to erection, and she squirmed on his lap. “Does he make your little heart go pitter-patter? Yeah, I reckon he does. Makes you wet, don't he? Aw, you're shy in front o’ Becky, ain't ya? I can understand that. But still: You ever lain in bed thinkin’ about him and felt moved to pleasure yourself? Huh? Speak up, Janine, I can't hear you…”

Lucas craned his neck, straining to hear her reply. Ellen leaned with him. The tiny affirmative Janine gave was only just audible. Lucas pinched Ellen’s nipple, almost absently.

“What d’ya think o’ that, Becky? Your friend’s got the hots for your man!”

“I don't care if she does or not,” said Becky. “Long as she keeps her hands off him.”

“Sounds fair enough to me,” remarked Lucas. “You ain't actually  _ done _ anythin’ with Oliver have you, Janine?”

“I….no….I haven't……”

“And we have another lie!” crowed Lucas, his hand leaving Ellen to press the fateful button. Janine jerked in her chair as the lye splashed onto her face. Becky lurched against her own bonds.

“Janine, you little sparrowfart! What did you do with my boyfriend?” she demanded.

“B-bl…..” Janine struggled to speak through her agonised wails, her throat working to breathe between sobs.

“Sounds like she's tryin’ to say ‘blowjob’,” interjected Lucas, helpfully. “That right, Janine? Jerk twice for yes!”

“You blew Oliver? You blew  _ my boyfriend _ ?” Becky shrieked. “You fuckin’ snake!”

Becky stabbed the button under her right hand repeatedly, sending a staccato rain of lye into her friend's face. Janine’s screams reached a crescendo as some of it splashed into her eyes.

“Becky no! I'm sorry!”

“Bitch!” Becky spammed the button again, and Janine’s cries turned to a strangled choking noise as the diluted corrosive spilled into her open mouth.

“Oh, you've done it now, Janine,” called Lucas. “Shoulda kept yer mouth shut…..”

As Janine convulsed in her chair, her hands clenched, tightening over her own button, whether by accident or design it was impossible to tell. The result was a continuous stream of lye directly into Becky’s face.

Becky’s screams, in a lower, more raw pitch, rose in stereo as she thrashed on her back like a grounded fish. Both eyes had been heavily doused in the mixture, and she squeezed them shut as she stabbed her button over and over again in retaliation.

Lucas leaned over and turned down the volume, the ear splitting cries too large in the small room. He watched as the solution went to work, melting flesh, forming blisters. Janine twisted from side to side as her throat closed, struggling for air, even as her erstwhile friend screamed that she was blind.

Lucas switched off the mic and sat back.

“You did, it baby. You broke ‘em. Didn't take much, did it?”

Ellen shook her head, sick guilt churning the pit of her stomach, but with the sound turned down to a manageable pitch, the writhing figures on the screen didn't seem real. She could almost convince herself she was watching a particularly gory horror movie.

“Looks like you're smart too,” Lucas told her, easing the strap of her dress off her shoulder, pulling it down her arm, exposing her. He scooped up a handful of warm tit, his fingers teasing its peak.

“You get to know a lot about people, workin’ in a bar…..” said Ellen breathlessly.

“Uh huh….”

Lucas pulled down the other strap, peeling her dress off the top half of her body till it was a puddle round her waist. She slipped her arms from the fabric, swaying against him, his palm sliding over her chest to get his fill of boths her tits, squeezing one then the other.

“Tell me how smart I am, baby….” he urged.

“You're real smart, Lucas.”  Ellen closed her eyes. “In fact….some people might say you were a genius…..”

He groaned, burying his face in the side of Ellen’s neck, pressing his lips almost delicately on it, placing kisses against the shivering skin. He normally paid little attention to her non-sexual body parts, and evidently had no idea how sensitive her neck was to this kind of treatment - had no idea that the reason she never wore her hair up was that the mere exposure of her neck was enough to keep her on a constant sensual edge, the tickle of loose hairs becoming a secret, erotic torment.

Moaning, she turned her head slightly, allowing him access to the even more tantalising area at the base of her throat. His tongue wetted the hollow between her collarbones, his breath huffing a hot, damp pattern.

Her head fell back in defeat, rolling against his shoulder, and he pulled away to observe her, taking in her flushed cheeks, her half-lidded eyes, her parted lips.

“Well, look at you,” he mused. “Seems like I ain't the only one gettin’ hot.”

He whispered in her ear, playfully trapping her earlobe between his teeth, pulling at the tender flesh briefly before releasing it.

“You want me to fuck you, Ellen?”

She nodded. It wasn't a lie.

“Lemme hear it,” he urged. “I wanna hear you say it for once.”

Confusion - as always when her own arousal was involved. She couldn't cope with her thoughts. Lust wiped everything from her mind but her need for sex.

“I want you to fuck me, Lucas,” she told him, and it seemed the flat statement excited him further. “I really….really…... want you to fuck me.”

“Mmmm.” He nipped at her neck, making her sigh. “Course I will,baby. You only had to ask.”

He grabbed her waist, lifting her, turning her, till she was sat on him with her back against his chest. She opened her thighs, feeling her juices running from her onto the lap of his jeans. His hands were at her breasts again, pinching her nipples with just the right amount of cruelty. She tossed her head back, barely feeling it connect with his face, and he grunted but didn't stop his molestation. He shifted slightly, moving his head out of harm’s way, peering over her shoulder to look at the monitor in front of them. She closed her eyes, not wanting the distraction of the two melting girls. She rocked forward, finding the bump of his zip and pressing herself to it.

His right hand left her, and she mewled with disappointment, but he was forcing it down between his belly and her ass, undoing his belt buckle.

“You hang on in there,” he muttered. “I got whatcha need right here…..”

His zip was undone, his hard on springing out, hot against her ass.

With a sudden movement, he'd tilted her forward, supporting her lurching weight as he pushed his cock down, seeking her slit. She felt it rub damply past her asshole and for a second she panicked, thinking he was going to buttfuck her with no lube, but then it continued its passage, stabbing her perineum briefly before finding her sopping hole.

He entered her easily, dragging her back upright, her weight pushing her down onto his length. She spread her legs wider, feeling for the floor with her toes, getting some leverage, only to have his hips lift beneath her. Her feet left the floor as he pushed upwards, his cock burrowing deep. She groaned through gritted teeth, grinding her ass into his lap. He thrust a few times, but didn't seemed satisfied with the position. His hand tightened round her belly as he stood, her bare feet falling, slapping onto the floor. She put her hands out, grabbing the edge of the desk, hearing the chair skid away on its castors. There was a rattle of keys as his jeans slid down his legs, a jingle as his belt buckle hit the floor. He swung back, then thrust into her again, his bare belly slapping against her ass.

“Yes!” This was better. She wanted to be pounded, to feel every inch of his prick as it slammed into her.

“You like that baby?” He was barely breathless, setting a punishing pace. She tried to keep up, tried to throw herself back onto his cock, but he was too fast and too hard.

“Yuh….” she puffed.

“I can't hear you! Say it louder for me….tell me how much you like it.”

“Oohhh…..” She groaned. It was hard to get the words out. She wasn't used to him wanting her to be vocal. “It's good, Lucas! Awwww…..its so good...!” she grunted between jolts that took her breath away.

The constant driving of his dick forced her forward, and her face hit the desk, her cheek laying against the computer keyboard. Her eyes rolled up as the new angle introduced his tip to that place, the one he'd found before. She laughed, the sound becoming a yelp as he drilled into her. Tits swinging beneath her, she dipped her back, pushing her ass higher, standing on the balls off her feet. The arm under her belly bruised her, but kept her standing when her knees would have given way. She felt him lift the fabric of her dress, draping it over her back so he could watch the way he thrust into her.

She reached behind her, found his hand resting on her hip, dragged it round, slapped it between her legs. Her knuckle pressed into the back of his hand, forcing his his fingers between the cleft of her lips. He tried to get a firm grip on the slippery surface, his fingertips gliding through the slime from her cunt. It wasn't enough. Her fist ground against his fingers, managing to isolate one, holding it against her clit. She clenched her pussy muscles, tightening around him, forcing him to thrust harder.

“Yah want it harder? Tell me!”

“Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder Lucas, you dirty bastard!” She didn't care why he wanted a running commentary now, too busy concentrating on keeping his hand in place so she could frig herself off on it. She was getting close, and prayed he'd hold out till she'd finished.

There….there it was….Wordless moans leaped from her throat, growing in volume as she flailed on the end of his prick, writhing against his pinioned hand. It was going to be good. He was still fucking her, and that was perfect - he was lasting much longer than normal. She wanted to bite the keys under her face.

“You cummin’, Ellen? You cummin’? Tell me!” His voice sounded strained and she knew his end was near.

“I’m cummin’, Lucas, yes, I'm cummin’......” 

She screamed as her orgasm peaked, feeling his spunk flood her mere seconds later. She rode the sensation down, pussy grasping at him greedily. She drooled onto the keyboard.

“Fuuucccckkkk……..” She panted against the desk. For a moment, she could see triple, then double, and then her vision righted itself.

The green light of the intercom was near her face, shining brightly, and she realised that had some point he'd turned the mic back on. Now the reason he had wanted her so loud and so needy made sense: Those girls had heard every word, every moan, every scream, every squelch.

She peeled her face off the keyboard, feeling the impression of the keys in her cheek. Lucas drew in his breath sharply as the sudden change of position pinched his softening cock, but she didn't care. She rounded on him furiously, his limp dick sliding out of her and slapping wetly against his leg.

“You didn't tell me you'd switched the microphone back on!” she scolded him. “That there was personal stuff!”

Lucas at least had the grace to look guilty.

“Must’ve been an accident?” he tried, hopefully.

She glared at him, folding her arms under her breasts. It was difficult to appear stern whilst half-naked, with her skin still bearing the flush of sexual exertion, but from the look of contrition on his face, she was at least succeeding a little bit.

“Aw, they'll be dead soon, Ellen - they ain't gonna tell no one!”

“That’s not the point. You should've told me.”

She tried to remain angry, but as he bent down sullenly to pull his jeans up, she finally noticed the blood over the lower half of his face.

“Lucas - you're bleedin’!”

“I know, woman! Dang near broke ma nose with yer head.”

He rubbed his hand over his top lip, regarding the bright crimson smear streaking it. Ellen looked at the hand. It was the one she'd appropriated. Something looked weird about it, the finger she'd abused sticking up at an unnatural angle.

“Lucas! Your hand…..” she gasped.

He grinned.

“Aw, it's jest dislocated.” He grabbed his knuckle and forced the finger back into place with a sickening pop. “You don't know yer own strength!”

“Hm. Well, I'd apologise, but I guess that makes us quits, don't it?”

Ellen threaded her arms back into the armholes of her dress, pulling it back into place. On the screen, Becky was twisting and turning slowly as if underwater. Janine lay still, but closer observation showed her chest rising and falling with laboured, uneven breaths. Their faces were all but unrecognizable, their features blurred into a soapy mush.

“By the way, what happened to the lie detector? I couldn't see it.”

“Aw, that was really annoyin’. Dropped the fuckin’ thing on the way to the room. Busted it up completely. Decided to wing it. Sounded convincin’ though, didn't I?”

“You sure did.” She paused. “You gonna finish them off?”

“I s’pose I should. Can't have ‘em keeping us up all night with their complainin’.”

Lucas toggled a large switch and they watched as lye solution flooded down the tubes unchecked, draining the remaining contents of the vat over the girls. He sighed.

“That's gonna be a godawful mess to clean up…” He said. “I don't even know where ta start.”

Ellen snorted.

“Well, you're on your own with that. I ain't helpin’, not after the trick you pulled.”

Lucas turned off the monitor, blinking Becky and Janine out of existence.

“C’mon. Let's go home. I'll worry about it tomorrow.”

  
  



	6. Sex, Bugs and Body Rolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas and Ellen venture outside but their evening is interrupted by Marguerite and a mysterious, murderous stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very few naughty bits in this chapter. Sorry guys.  
> And the chapter title is a very weak pun, but I'm tired :/

They lay together in the dark, crammed onto the narrow bed. Lucas was fully clothed as usual, the fleecy fabric of his hoodie soft against her naked skin. He was fidgety, jostling her, bony elbows nudging into her ribs, all angles and awkwardness. Ellen finally spoke up.

“I can go and sleep on the couch if you like,” she offered, moving to ease herself away from the wall where he'd wedged her.

“Naw! Just need a bigger bed, is all. Stay here.”

He shifted one last time, wrapping his arms around her body, spooning her. One hand fondled her breast, but in a way that seemed to seek comfort rather than stimulation. He settled down, his chin against her shoulder, his breath stirring her hair.

Ellen waited. There was a restlessness about him that wasn't done yet, and sure enough, after a few minutes, he spoke.

“You remember that storm? Nearly 3 years ago now. Bad one.”

“I sure do. Flooded my apartment. What about it?”

“That's when it started. When the storm cleared, we found that ship in the swamp….”

She let him talk uninterrupted, listening to his drawl in the dark. The story that unfolded would have been unbelievable if she hadn't already witnessed the things she had. She sensed he was trying to be dispassionate, to lay out the facts for her, but as he told her about Eveline, Mia and the mould his voice showed more emotion than he had probably intended. He spoke of his pre-infection family with real warmth, whether he'd realised it or not, and his voice faltered when he'd told her of how Eveline had taken over his mother, destroying the woman she had been and replacing her with the bug-raddled monster. She got the impression he'd been something of a Momma’s boy.

When he finished, she waited before speaking.

“Lucas?”

“What?”

“Ain't there no hope for your family? I mean, can't they get cured?”

His grip on her tightened a little, the hand that had been absent-mindedly caressing her dropping away.

“Not for my parents. They're too far gone. They been eatin’ that infected shit all this time.  Any cure’d kill ‘em. Zoe, though….. Zoe could be cured. If we could make a serum. I been studyin’ on how to make it. We got part o’ what we need, but Momma’s hidden the other part. ‘n’ we can't get past Momma. We tried.” He paused. “You don't know what she's capable of.”

“What about you, though? Don't you need the serum?”

“Naw. I'm fine as I am. Better than fine! Eveline ain't got no hold over me any more, but I still got all the advantages of the infection. An’ before you ask, I ain't tellin’ you how I got my cure. That's my business.”

“Ain't there anyone who could help your sister? Anyone at all?”

Lucas was silent for a moment, but then he spoke again, the hand that had been stilled starting to stroke her skin again companionably.

“Well now, funny you should mention that. I may have found just the man. I'll be bringin’ him here when the time is right. But the time ain't right yet.” His lips touched her shoulder. “You sleepy?”

“Not really.”

“Wanna fool around?”

It was the first time he'd actually asked her. She couldn't very well say no.

He was gentler, more thoughtful than usual, entering her from behind as she lay on her side, his face nuzzling the side of her neck, his panting loud in her ear. After he'd come, he fell asleep almost immediately, his dick still in her. She thought about what he'd said as he softened and slipped out of her, finally turning and cuddling up to him as he slept, cradling his head in the crook of her arm.

 

She was reading on the sofa when he burst into the room. His eyes were redder than usual, wide and wild. The smell of smoke accompanied him - not the wholesome, woodsy smelling smoke of a log fire, but chemical and rank, like the time an oil tanker had caught fire on the highway. He slammed the metal door behind him. Ellen put down her book.

“Lucas? What's wrong? Has there been a fire?”

He laughed, the sound too shrill and touching the edge of insanity.

“You could say that!”

He cackled again, but there was no humour on his face. His expression twisted and changed, one second looking distraught, the next terrified. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his fists grimy, a black substance under his nails. He took a video camera from the pocket of his hoodie, tossed it onto the table. It was warped and partially melted, the lens milky.

He hovered, undecided for a moment, then strode over to her, flinging himself down on his knees at her feet, his arms going round her waist in a deathgrip. He buried his face in her lap.

“Lucas! You're scaring me!”

He was shaking, his shoulders hunched. If she didn't know better, she would have thought he was sobbing.

Tentatively, she put her hands out and touched the back of his head.

“What is it, baby?” she asked gently.

“I done somethin’ bad, Ellen,” he said, his voice muffled.

Confused, Ellen tried to formulate her words carefully.

“Well, pardon me for sayin’ this, Lucas, but ain't you done a lot o’ bad things?”

He lifted his face to look at her, his eyes haunted.

“Not like this. Not to someone who didn't deserve it…..” He shook his head. “I've never claimed to be a good person, Ellen. I know I'm fucked in the head. But Lonny - he deserved it. Becky and Janine - they deserved it. Clancy didn't. “

“Who’s Clancy?” Ellen couldn't keep up with the conversation.

Lucas rubbed his eyes, making her wince as his fists rubbed sooty crap into the sensitive flesh.

“Just a guy,” he muttered.

Sighing, Ellen patted the couch next to her.

“Come up here next to me an’ tell me about it,” she urged. “Sometimes it helps to get it all out.”

Lucas heaved himself to his feet. She was used to him having limitless energy, but he looked exhausted and defeated now. He slumped onto the couch, curling up into a fetal position on his side, laying his head on her lap. She stroked the shaved hair above his ear. He began to talk in a low monotone.

“There were three o’ them. Urban explorers, they call ‘emselves, ‘cept ain't nuthin’ urban about this place. They go round abandoned buildin’s, checkin’ out hauntin’s ‘n’ stuff. Been lotsa rumours in Dulvey about our house.”

“Like T.A.P.S, or Ghost Adventures?”

“Yeah, like that. Anyways, Pa caught ‘em ‘fore they got too far. Killed Andre right off the bat. Put the other two in the attic. Mia killed Pete up there. She's been havin’ one o’ her violent episodes. I locked her up in the basement. She's dangerous when she's like that. Unpredictable.

“Pa took Clancy to the basement, left him there overnight with the Molded. Tough sonofabitch survived. Never woulda expected that. He looked soft. Fuckin’ fanny pack an’ skinny jeans! Never can tell, I guess. Then Momma decided since he'd survived it was worth makin’ him part o’ the family, locked him upstairs in one o’ the bedrooms, tried to feed him that fuckin’ stuff she cooks up. He escaped though. Found a tunnel. That's where I caught ‘im.”

Lucas went silent for a long time, and just as Ellen thought he'd fallen asleep, he started to speak again.

“I build stuff. Always have done. Used to help my dad with projects. We used to make stuff together. Haven't done that since Eveline came. But I still build. Passes the time, makes me feel like I’m me, y’know? But the stuff I make ain't nice. You prolly know that. Sometimes I get an idea in ma head an’ I gotta make it, jest to see if I can. And then I think: ‘What's the point o’ buildin’ things if I ain't gonna test ‘em?’. So I find someone to test ‘em on. Usually they're goners anyway - dyin’ or halfway through turnin’. But I chose Clancy this time. Was real proud o’ my machine. Set ‘im up against another guy we picked up. Hoffman. He made out he was a real family man, kept goin’ on about his daughter, how he hadta live so he could see his little girl again. ‘cept I looked on his phone. He had pictures o’ her on there, but some o’ them weren't exactly pictures a daddy should have o’ his baby girl, if y’know what I mean. So I figured, well, he deserves to die. I rigged the cards so Clancy would win. He lost two fingers, but hell, they're only fingers, right? Man can live without two fingers. But I didn't stop there. I couldn't let ‘im go, not after what he'd seen, an’ I  know either Momma or Pa was gonna kill ‘im anyways….”

Lucas sat up.

“I burned ‘im, Ellen. He didn't have a chance. The way the puzzle was set up, if you solve it, you die. An’ it worked. Just how I planned it -  _ exactly  _ how I planned it. You better believe I was fuckin’ proud o’ myself.”

He turned to her.

“I'm cured, Ellen. Eveline ain't got control o’ my mind no more. But she was in there for a long time, and once she's been in yer head - well, I don't think she ever goes. There's always a part o’ her that stays, hangs around. Like a ghost……”

He trailed off. Laughed.

“Listen ta me - tryin’ ta blame Eveline for what I did! Weren't her, it was me. I watched him burn alive an’ I filmed it.” He cast a disgusted glance towards the camera on the table. “Didn't bother me none till I went in there ‘n’ saw him, all crispy an’ smellin’ like pork…… his fanny pack all melted……”

He sat in silence. Ellen couldn't think of anything to say that might make him feel better, but she tried.

“Lucas, everybody's done somethin’ in their lives that's bad. Probably even this Clancy. There's people that would say  _ I  _ deserve to die for killin’ my husband - “

He rounded on her angrily.

“Don't you fuckin’ dare say that! When you pulled him into the road, you were doin’ a good thing, and don't ever think you weren't! Now, I appreciate what you're tryin’ ta do, Ellen, but it ain't no use. There's no excuses. I did it, ‘n’ that's that. Clancy’s dead. End o’ story.”

Ellen sat silently. She was scared of Lucas when he was like this. He looked at her, but she couldn't identify his expression, and she was normally good at reading him.

“Y’know, you weren't supposed to last this long. I planned on gettin’ rid o’ ya once I got bored. Thing is, I never got bored.” He sighed. “You don't deserve all this, Ellen. You're a good person. You deserve to be with someone who treats you right.”

“You do treat me right, Lucas, in your own way. You ain't never hurt me. You don't talk foul to me. Seems like I could do a lot worse.”

“Yeah, but I know you didn't come with me that day cuz you liked me. You came cuz you had to, to save yourself.”

“Well, that ain't entirely true. Weren't to save myself - was to save those two girls. I knew they wouldn't be able to cope with the stuff I did with you, so I put myself forward.”

Lucas shook his head.

“You had it all wrong, though. I weren't gonna fuck ‘em - was gonna use ‘em to test my inventions.”

“I know that now.”

“You didn't even save ‘em, Ellen. They turned, like Travis turned. They're down there in the basement now, hibernatin’ in the mould till someone comes along. I'm sorry.”

There was no answer to that.

Lucas got wearily to his feet, his posture slumped.

“I'm gonna go wash this stink off me. When I come back out, I don't wanna talk about this any more. I don't want you to mention this ever again. It's done now. Ok?”

“Ok.”

“We can fuck, though, maybe. If you want.”

“Sure. We can fuck Lucas.”

“Good. Need me some o’ that right now…..”

Dragging his feet, he walked into the bathroom.

 

When Lucas came out of the bathroom he was clean, his usually sallow skin pink from scrubbing. There was a singed patch of hair on one side of his head and a burn on his neck that looked like it was already healing.

He was outwardly cheerful, as though he'd successfully exorcised the bad feelings, but she wasn't sure if that was just a front. They didn't talk about Clancy. It was as if he'd never existed.

They fucked on the floor. Lucas smelled of soap and mouthwash. He was rougher than usual, but even that was exciting in a fucked up way. Ellen wondered what was happening to her.

 

Lucas left their rooms regularly, leaving with his backpack empty and returning with it crammed full. Everything he brought back went directly into his locked room. There was a curiously restless energy about him now that was catching, and Ellen found herself becoming agitated and twitchy, though she kept it to herself.

Eventually, she broke her silence.

“Lucas, can we go outside again soon?” she asked him as they sat at the table. He had her stripping wires for him while he soldered some kind of circuit board.

He stopped working to look at her. One of the things she liked about him was that he always listened to her. Maybe it was just because she wasn't the type of person to talk for the sake of it, but she'd known plenty of men - far too many - who let her words go unnoticed. And he always considered her suggestions or requests, even if the answer was finally negative.

She could see him thinking now.

“Well, I guess we could. Be dangerous though. But you know that.”

“Uh huh.”

“You gettin’ bored cooped up in here?”

“Kinda. Mostly I just wanna feel the breeze on my skin and the grass under my feet, even if it's only for a little bit.” She leaned forward, allowing him a prime view down the front of her dress. “You ever fucked outside? It's excitin’.....”

He grinned, and she knew she had him.

“Ok. We can go tonight.”

 

He brought his backpack, but it wasn't empty.

“You gonna get more supplies?”

“Huh?” he saw her looking at the backpack. “Oh - naw. Wouldn't take you on a supply run. That'd mean goin’ into the house, ‘n’ that's way too dangerous. This outin’ ain't for business. Only pleasure.”

They trekked through the endless corridors. Lucas had been busy painting again. Judging by the numerous plastic jugs of Hey Bro bleach littering the rooms, he was trying to cover the dark stains of encroaching mould. She imagined it was an ongoing battle.

“I could help you paint sometime. If you want,” she offered. “May as well make use o’ me, ‘stead o’ shuttin’ me away like a kept woman. I'm startin’ to feel fat ‘n’ lazy.”

“Aw, you ain't fat, baby. Yer jest right.” He gave her ass a playful squeeze. “‘specially where it counts. An’ you can help paint if you want. Only didn't ask you cuz I didn't want you to think I was usin’ you for slave labour.”

“I wouldn't mind. I like to feel useful. An’ my daddy always said the devil finds work for idle hands.”

Lucas snorted in amusement.

“Devil wouldn't show his face round here. Be too scared.”

They reached the main door and Lucas opened it cautiously, peering out.

“Coast's clear,” he told her, opening the door wider.

Ellen stepped outside eagerly. It was hotter than it had been last time, and the swamp smelled stronger, but she took deep breaths of the muggy air gratefully.

“Where we goin’?” she whispered to Lucas.

“You'll see,” he said.

His head swivelled back and forth, eyes searching the the yard. The moon was waning and didn't provide much light. Without its help the shadows were much deeper and darker, more oppressive. The lights in his sister's trailer illuminated the patch of ground in front of them with a dim yellow glow. Ellen could hear muffled music playing from within.

“Ready to sneak?” he whispered.

“Ain't no need for that,” said a voice from behind the trailer. “I already know you're here….”

Lucas let out a small yelp, clutching at his chest. Ellen grabbed his arm in fright. There was a glowing point of light in the blackness, hovering, and it grew brighter as she watched. A billow of cigarette smoke rolled towards them.

“Goddam it, Zoe! What’re you doin’ lurkin’ back there?”

Zoe stepped into the light. She was thin like her brother, but with softer features and short black hair.

“Thought I'd step outside for a bit, like you.” Her gaze rested on Ellen. “Aren'tcha gonna introduce me?”

“Not out here! Let us in yer trailer!” hissed Lucas.

Zoe rolled her eyes, but went up the trailer steps and opened the door.

With one last glance around, Lucas bustled Ellen inside.

 

The inside of the trailer was cramped and untidy, but she'd evidently done her best to make it homey. She moved an overflowing ashtray off a seat and sat down.

“Make yourself at home, Lucas and Whoever You Are,” she said moodily.

Lucas, slumped onto a low couch with a throw over it, patting the space next to him. Ellen perched awkwardly on the edge.

“This here's Ellen,” said Lucas. “My girlfriend. Ellen, my sister Zoe.”

“Your  _ girlfriend? _ ” Zoe laughed hollowly. “You sure about that?”

“She is!” insisted Lucas, his eyebrows pulling together in a frown.

Zoe looked at Ellen as though she were some sort of bug under a microscope.

“Whatever you say, Lucas,” said Zoe skeptically. “You want me to believe you're dating the hick that served beers at Lonny’s Bar, who am I to argue? I'm sure you coulda kidnapped a younger one if you'd tried, though.”

Lucas slammed his fist down on the table, making a lamp topple and both women jump.

“Shut the fuck up, Zoe!” he snarled. “You don't know the first thing about her, so who are you to judge? An’ might I remind you, she is sittin’ right fuckin’ there, so how about you talk with a little bit o’ respect, huh?” He turned to Ellen. “I must apologise for my sister, Ellen. Apparently she ain't got no fuckin’ manners any more.”

Zoe sat with her mouth open, looking from Lucas to Ellen then back again. Her face slowly crumpled into an expression of shame, her head drooping.

“I'm sorry, Ellen,” she muttered, staring at her lap. “I didn't mean no disrespect. Been on my own so long, forgotten how to talk to people.”

Ellen gave her brightest smile.

“That's ok, hun. I'm sure you're not normally such a cunt, right?”

Zoe shook her head miserably, glancing at her brother who was sniggering.

“Hoo! She got your number, Zoe!”

Zoe threw a pillow at him.

“Shut up, asshole!”

Feeling sorry for the blushing girl, Ellen leaned over and patted her hand.

“I been called worse’n a hick, honey, so don't you worry none.”

Ellen managed an embarrassed smile, her grey complexion stained pink at her cheeks.

“Anyways, what’re you two doing skulkin’ around my trailer?”

“Just goin’ for a walk. Takin’ in the night air.” Lucas leaned back in his seat.

“Takin’ a  _ walk _ ? Round  _ here _ ?” Zoe shook her head. “You're crazier’n that a shithouse rat, Lucas! What if Momma finds your little friend here? She's started doin’ her rounds again, just wanderin’ with her lantern.”

“Shit. Really?” Lucas looked at Ellen. “Maybe we should just go back.”

“No, Lucas! Please! Can't we just be careful?” pleaded Ellen.

“I dunno, Ellen. If Momma catches you…….”

“She won't. Cuz you won't let that happen right?”

Zoe snorted.

“Your faith in my brother is touchin’, but I gotta warn you, he ain't all that and a bag o’ potato chips.”

“May I remind you to shut the fuck up?” retorted Lucas.

Zoe waved her hand.

“Whatever. You go on your  _ walk _ .” She did air quotes with her fingers. “Just don't come cryin’ to me if your girlfriend ends up with a face full o’ bugs and a snatch full o’ centipedes.”

She looked at Ellen, her face pinched with worry.

“Really. Be careful.”

Ellen nodded.

Lucas got to his feet.

“Come on, baby. We best be makin’ tracks.” He glanced at his sister. “How you doin’ for food?”

Zoe shrugged.

“Ain't got much left,” she admitted. “Daddy's been real erratic lately, I don't much like goin’ in the house.”

“I'll bring you some up tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Lucas. Oh - before you go!” Zoe stood up and went the few steps to the fridge. She opened it and brought out two brown bottles she held out. “Managed to steal some o’ daddy's beers last time I was there. Here, take ‘em.”

Lucas’s face broke into a broad grin.

“Zoe, I take back everythin’ I ever said about you!”

He snatched the beers off her and stowed them in his backpack before walking over to the door.

“Stay here, Ellen. Just gonna check outside.”

He slipped out. The second he was gone, Zoe darted over to her.

“1019,” she hissed.

“What?”

“The code to his door. It’s gotta be 1019. Same as the password to his phone ‘n’ his laptop.”

She stopped talking as Lucas reappeared in the doorway.

“C’mon, Ellen. It's safe.”

Zoe looked Ellen in the eye.

“Be careful.”

Ellen nodded and went out to join Lucas.

 

With two beers in his backpack, Lucas’s mood was noticeably upbeat, and Ellen figured it was safe to chat. Zoe’s sudden disclosure had confused and upset her, and she needed a distraction.

“So what romantic location are you takin’ me to, Romeo?”

“It's jest through here,” he told her, opening a gate. “The old greenhouse. It's pretty much overgrown now, so it should give us some privacy.”

The building had been all but swallowed by climbing vines that swarmed the walls and enveloped the windows. It gave the appearance that the greenhouse had sprouted from the ground and grown there. The smell in this area was juicy and somehow green, but with the underlying odour of rotting mulch.

Lucas led her to an area off to one side, where shrubs grew wild. There was a small clearing in the middle, flat and grassy. Lucas set his backpack on a handy tree stump, opening it and producing a tattered plaid blanket which he spread on the ground with a flourish.

“Wow! You came prepared.”

“I'm always prepared, baby.” He took out the two bottles, opening one with the attachment on a pocket knife. He offered it to her. “You drink beer?”

She hadn't touched beer for a long time, the smell reminding her of the bar and of the reek of Zack’s breath when he came home drunk, but at the moment the prospect of drinking a beer out in the open sounded perfect.

She took the bottle from him, fastening her lips to the neck and upending it. It was still cold, the bitter taste hitting the back of her throat deliciously, and before she'd realised it, she'd drained half the bottle in one go. She stopped, catching her breath, and belched loudly.

Lucas laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever witnessed, despite her embarrassment. Her mother would have been shocked at her unladylike behaviour, but then she would have been shocked by everything Ellen had done recently.

“Sit yerself down, Ellen,” said Lucas, still chuckling. “I was lookin’ forward to a nice romantic evenin’, but now it feels like I'm sharin’ a beer with my old man.”

Blushing, Ellen settled herself on the blanket as Lucas opened his own beer. She sipped daintily, wanting to make this luxury last. Lucas slumped down next to her, long legs extended, propping himself on his elbow.

“Now ain't this jest perfect?” he sighed. “This was a good idea o’ yours, baby. We should do it more often. I know plenty of places we could go.”

They sat in cosy silence, listening to the sound of crickets and watching bats swoop overhead.

“Lucas?”

“What?”

“You been real busy lately. You don't haveta tell me what you're doin’, but…. Is it to do with what you were talking about? The man who can get the cure?”

Lucas eyed her narrowly.

“You oughta go back in the knife drawer, you're so sharp. Yeah, matter o’ fact it is. Got a lot o’ preparation to do - a  _ lot _ . Once he gets here, things are gonna move real fast, so I gotta make sure everythin’s ready. I fuck up once, it all goes down the fuckin’ toilet.”

“How do you know when he's gonna get here though?”

“I'm gonna send for him when I'm ready. Can't leave nothin’ to chance.”

“You think he'll really come?”

“Oh, he'll come alright. He's Mia’s husband. He thinks she's been dead these past three years. He finds out she's still alive, you bet your ass he's gonna come lookin’ for her. Anyways, enough o’ all this serious talk!” He put his hand suggestively on her thigh. “We're meant to be enjoyin’ ourselves, in case you forgot…..”

She smiled, setting her beer down and pulling off her dress. There was one more question she'd wanted to ask before his patience ran out: What's gonna happen to me? But she guessed it would have to wait….and she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

He was on top of her in an instant, the meagre moonlight reflecting off the hard angles of his face. Ellen tried to relax, to quell the feelings of panic that had begun to crowd her waking moments. She felt like time was running out for her, her uncertain future hanging in the balance. Now was the time to fight, to work hard at making herself indispensable, making her important to him. She put her hand to his jaw, her palm rasping against the ever present stubble. He turned his head, snatching a finger between his teeth, his tongue exploring the sensitive skin of the webbing between her digits. He did odd stuff like that sometimes, obsessing over obscure body parts, but she found it oddly endearing, and the unpredictability was exciting to her.

He pressed his pelvis down, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against her pussy lips. She tried to think of something new she could do, something different and wonderful and erotic that would surprise him, make him wonder what other tricks she had up her sleeve for him to discover in the fullness of time.

Thinking aloud, she muttered:

“Pity we ain't got lube. You could put it up my ass…..”

Lucas’s entire body stiffened, her finger dropping from his mouth.

“Really?” He lowered his face, his eyes wide as he studied her expression. “You'd let me do that?”

“Uh huh. Surprised you ain't asked before, to be honest.”

To her amusement, his pale face coloured slightly in embarrassment.

“I didn't wanna,” he admitted sheepishly. “Thought you might think it was weird or somethin’....”

She smiled.

“Lucas, it's been my experience that most men wanna do that particular thing, even if they pretend they don't. It ain't weird.”

“Do women like that?” he asked doubtfully. “I mean, do  _ you _ ?”

“It can be nice, if it's done right. And you'd have to be careful, else it'd hurt.”

“Oh, I'll be careful!” he told her eagerly. “I won't hurt you, I promise!”

He leaned down and planted a hearty kiss on her mouth.

“Damn Ellen - you're somethin’ else.”

Visibly excited, he began to undo his jeans.

“Guess we better do it the normal way for now….” he began, then froze, looking beyond her head into the distance.

“Fuck!” He climbed off her. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! Ellen, put yer dress back on. We gotta get outta here!”

Confused, Ellen grabbed her dress and started to fumble it on, accidentally trying to shove her head through an armhole.

“What is it, Lucas? What's wrong?”

“I just spotted my momma’s lantern. Think she's comin’ this way.”

 

Ellen could see the yellow glow of lamplight, closer than she'd expected. It moved slowly but inexorably in their direction, its illumination disturbed by the flickering shadows of moths as they flitted around it in complex patterns. The woman herself was just a pale blur behind.

Lucas ducked into the shadows, grabbing Ellen by the arms and dragging her with him. He put his face to hers, his voice low and frantic.

“Listen to me: There's a way out through the swamp. You go through that clearin’ behind me, there's a bit o’ swamp that ain't too deep. You wade through there, you'll find a dirt track. It leads right to the highway. Go!”

“Wha-at? No, Lucas, I ain't goin’! Just lemme hide….”

“You have to run, Ellen! If she spots you……” He shook his head. “Just go.”

For a moment, she considered it. She thought of running onto the highway, flagging down a car. Then she thought of the gators that stood between her and freedom, of the possible serial killers and rapists that could offer her a ride, of returning to the old drudgery of her life, finding another job. Her apartment had probably been rented out to someone else, too, after so much missed rent, her worldly belongings in a dumpster or a thrift shop.

All this she thought in a matter of seconds. She shook her head.

“Uh-uh. I'm stayin’.”

Lucas stared at her open-mouthed for the second time in minutes.

“Fucked if you ain't the most stubborn bitch I ever met. Git in that bush, now!”

He gave her a shove, sending her stumbling into the bushes. She dived in as best she could, twigs snatching at her clothes, pulling at her hair. Leaves hit her in the face, blinding her. She struggled into the deepest part with only moments to spare, crouchìng in her little hollow like a trapped hare.

“Lu-kiss? That you?”

The woman's voice sounded normal on the surface, yet underneath there was a curious quality Ellen couldn't identify. Insanity, certainly, but the undertones were cracked and ragged as though something were caught in her throat.

“Yeah, it's me, Momma.” 

Lucas began to walk towards her, away from the bush where Ellen squatted.

“You were talkin’ to someone…..”

“Only maself.”

Marguerite stood near the little clearing where they'd been, staring suspiciously at the spread blanket and the beer bottles. On the surface, she resembled an ordinary middle-aged woman, but as she lifted the lantern higher to look at her son, Ellen took in the filth on her unremarkable clothes, the matted rat's nest of her hair, the unnatural glint in her eyes. As she watched, a cockroach darted out of the woman's ear and scurried down into the neck of her blouse.

“What you been doin’ out here, Lu-kiss?”

“Nuthin’ Momma. Jest sittin’.”

“An’ drinkin’ your father's beer, I see. He catches you stealin’ his beers, he ain't gonna be happy, you know.”

“Aw, you wouldn't tell him, would you Momma?” said Lucas, his tone wheedling.

Marguerite chuckled.

“Guess I won't,” she said, baring yellowed teeth in what was meant to be a smile. She glanced downwards, and her smile disappeared as quickly as switching off a light.

“Why’re your pants undone?” she snapped. “You been doin’ ungodly things to yourself out here?”

“Hell no, Momma! Was just about to take a piss ‘fore you interrupted me.”

Marguerite relaxed at the explanation, laughing softly.

“Oh, well don't let me stop you. Go on now.” Ellen couldn't see the look on Lucas’s face, but Marguerite seemed vaguely annoyed by his expression. “Don't look at me like that! Ain't nuthin’ I ain't seen before, cher. I changed your diapers! An’ I always told you, it's unhealthy to hold it in.”

Muttering, Lucas turned and slouched away, reaching into his pants as he approached the bushes. He looked over his shoulder.

“I can't go with you watchin’!”

With an exaggerated sigh, Marguerite turned her back.

“You always were a shy boy, Lu-kiss. Hated usin’ the public urinals. More’n once you wet your pants rather’n go into the men’s bathroom when we was out. Useta have to take a spare pair o’ pants with us on outin’s, just in case!” She laughed gaily, and in her bush Ellen had to stifle her own giggle.

His expression sullen and more than a little pouty, Lucas brought out his dick and pointed it at the bushes. It took a while for him to relax enough to go, but once he did Ellen had to shrink back to avoid the stream as it spattered and splashed enthusiastically off the leaves next to her. At least he hadn't pissed directly into her face.

“There. Happy now?” Lucas shook off and zipped up. “What you doin’ out here anyway, Momma?”

Marguerite turned back to him, a sour look on her face.

“One o’ those cocksuckers escaped again! Threw himself outta the window by the garage. Your Daddy’s boardin’ the window up right now. You better help me look for that motherfucker.”

“Ok Momma. Be quicker if we split up, though. You search round by the old house, I'll look round the guest house and the swamp.”

Marguerite nodded, and Ellen sagged back on her haunches in relief. As she turned to leave, she suddenly stopped, turning back sharply, her eyes fixed on the bushes.

“What?” Lucas sounded nervous.

“Thought I saw somethin’....” The woman lurched over, her gait slightly crouched. The front of her skirt was undulating minutely, and bulged slightly, as if something was underneath. Ellen held her breath, remaining absolutely still as the lamplight grew closer.

“Probably just a possum,” said Lucas, sounding relaxed, but Ellen could see his body grow tense, poised to intervene if necessary.

“Good eatin’ on a possum,” remarked Marguerite, licking her lips as she craned her neck, bringing her face nearer to the bush.

Ellen was terrified that the lamplight would reflect off her eyes and give her location away, but the horror was hypnotic. She watched as the woman's mouth opened slowly,and at first Ellen thought she was poking her tongue out, but as it lengthened and curled she realised she was looking at a monstrous centipede extruding out from between her lips. It slithered out, much longer than ones Ellen was used to seeing, its antennae waving delicately. How far down her throat had the fucking thing been?

Ellen squeezed her legs together tightly as a trickle of piss escaped. There was a buzzing noise, growing louder and angrier by the second.

“Ain't we got more important things to worry about than possums?” demanded Lucas.

Marguerite drew back, the huge insect sliding back down her throat with a wet slurping sound that made Ellen gag.

“I guess so.” Her voice sounded weird and choked. Ellen could swear she saw her adam’s apple swell unnaturally. “If you catch ‘im, bring ‘im to the house.”

She walked away, stopping to briefly pat her son's cheek with a gnarled hand tipped with dirt encrusted, jagged nails. She walked bowlegged, whatever it was under her skirt shifting as she moved.

 

Only when the glow of the lantern was out of sight did Lucas come over and extricate her from the bushes.

“You okay?” he asked, picking leaves from her hair.

She nodded mutely.

Lucas regarded her for a moment, seeing the look of miserable fear on her face before pulling her against him and wrapping his arms around her. She clung to him, burying her face in his chest. As the shock began to catch up, she began to shake.

“Thought you was a goner for sure,” he said, his voice a rumble next to her face. “Why didn't you run?”

“Where would I go?” she asked, her voice muffled. “I got no life out there any more.” She raised her face, looking up at him. “I wanna stay with you.”

He looked surprised, but there was no disbelief, only a naked expression of wonder.

“You're weird,” he announced, giving her a final squeeze before releasing her. “Lucky for you I like weird, though. Let's get you back inside.”

“Ain't you gonna look for that guy?”

“Yeah, soon as you're safe. C’mon.”

He packed up the blanket, drained the last of the beer from his bottle and tossed the empty into the bushes. There was a muffled thud, and a grunt. They both froze.

“What the fuck…?”

The man who burst from the bushes was average looking apart from the fact that he was severely disheveled and lacked an eye. Where it had been was a spongy mess, filled with clotted gore, ragged around the edges. He held the beer bottle aloft by the neck, angling the thick base. Neither of them had a chance to react before he closed in, shattering the bottle over Lucas’s head.

Lucas toppled, falling splay-legged onto the grass, his eyes rolling up. He struggled to push himself upwards, but the stranger uttered a gargling roar and aimed a kick at his fallen foe. It connected soundly with the side of his face, and Ellen saw a tooth fly out.

The man still held the neck of the bottle, its shattered edges forming razor shards that glinted wickedly. Turning it point downwards, he held it double-fisted over his head, poised to stab it into Lucas’s face.

“No!” Ellen screamed, her legs finally allowing her to move. She ran at the man, throwing her entire weight at him. Little as she was, the blow knocked him off balance and he staggered sideways, the bottle neck falling from his hands. He swiped out at her, his hand connecting with her shoulder. She tripped over Lucas’s sprawled legs and fell onto her ass with a spine jarring thump.

The man swayed, his face pulled into a grimace.

“You're one of them,” he panted. “One of those fucked up hillbillies.”

She didn't argue, pushing herself cautiously backwards, scrambling to her feet. Lucas was motionless, a large footprint already forming on his jaw.

“Oh no you don't!” snarled the man. “I'm not having you running to that fucking….thing in a skirt, telling her where I went!”

He lunged at her, his fingers skidding over the surface of her skin without purchase, but just as she thought she might get away, something snagged on the strap of her dress and yanked her back. The fabric held as he swung her round, only to finally rip and spill her onto the ground. Her head hit the hard packed earth, and as she struggled to get her hands beneath her, she felt a weight on her stomach.

The man sat astride her, his ass firmly planted on her abdomen.

“Fucking bitch!” he hissed, his hands fastening on her neck.

He began to throttle her, a manic grin spreading over his face. She grappled at his hands, trying to pry his fingers from her throat as her heartbeat pounded deafeningly in her ears, but she was unable to budge them.

Lungs struggling for air, she groped blindly at her belly, finding the weighty sac of his balls in his loose pants and squeezing. He screamed, a high sound like a small girl, his hands quitting their choking. She twisted, merciless, feeling something tear wetly under the skin. His voice climbed higher, reaching a pitch she thought would shatter every window in the area.

Releasing his damaged nutsack, she stretched her arm out to the side, her hand connecting with the smooth cylinder of the bottle neck. It nicked her finger, the pain sharp like a bee sting compared to the solid ache in her throat.

Turning her weapon, she aimed the raw edges at the man’s remaining eye, thrusting it upwards and swivelling it as though she was using an apple corer. Blood and clear fluid gushed over her hand and she ground deeper, feeling gristle split and bone scrape.

He lurched backwards, the bottle neck slipping from her wet fingers, still deeply embedded in his eye socket. She lay gasping on the ground, fighting the heavy feeling in her body, willing herself to sit up. Something blurred past her vision, and she heard the meaty thud of flesh connecting with flesh.

“Shut the fuck up!” snarled Lucas’s voice, and the man's screams became muffled.

Curious, she forced herself onto her elbows. Lucas was bent over the prostrate man, busily cramming handfuls of mud into his open mouth.

“Noisy fuckin’ bastard….” muttered Lucas, brushing the mud from his fingers. The man writhed on the floor, clawing at his jaw, trying to scoop out the impacted earth.

Lucas turned to her, the livid red mark from the man's kick shocking in contrast with his pallor.

“You ok, baby?”

She sat up, the torn strap of her dress falling from her shoulder, flopping one tit out.

“Throat hurts,” she managed, wincing at the soreness when she swallowed.

Grimly, Lucas helped her to her feet, tying the ruined strap together in a clumsy knot.

He examined her neck, his lips twisting with anger, and swung round to plant a vicious kick in the man's ribs.

“You no good sonofabitch shithead motherfucking cocksucker….!” Each curse was accompanied by another kick to a different part of the prone body.

“Finish ‘im off, Lucas. Your momma probably heard all the commotion,” croaked Ellen, glancing anxiously towards the gates.

“Shit. You're right. Hang on, baby.” Lucas raised his foot one last time over the man's face before stamping down, the sole of his sneaker driving the shard of bottle deeper, the glass squealing against bone. The man went limp.

“There,” said Lucas with considerable satisfaction. “You better hide again baby. Be a fucked up end to the night if Momma catches you after all this.”

She nodded and began to limp wearily over to her bush.

“Hey.” Lucas grabbed her, pulling her into a brief hug. “You did real good, darlin’. I'll fix you up once we get back home.” He kissed the top of her head. “Go on, now.”

Ellen forced her way into the depths of the bush, curled up and fell asleep almost immediately.


	7. Bondage and Buttsex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellen makes a stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like bondage or buttsex, don't read this chapter. Seriously.
> 
> Also this chapter stems from my very first Lucas fantasy, in which I tie him down and fuck him but he totally wants it. There. I said it.
> 
> All the buttsex aside, this is an important chapter in Lucas’s and Ellen’s relationship. There is a shift of power, and this is all about that. The buttsex is incidental. So give it a try. If you don't like it, you don't have to do it again :)

Ellen woke in a dark and scratchy place, hands grabbing at her. For a second, she was terrified, slapping at the intrusive hands and trying to scream through a throat that felt bruised and closed off.

“Heyheyhey….shhh...it's ok. It's only me.” Lucas was head and shoulders into her den. To her fucked up, half asleep brain it looked like the bush was giving birth to him. “C’mon out, baby. Momma’s gone.”

Slowly, she crawled out of her hiding place, barely having the energy to move such a small distance. Her throat hurt when she swallowed and it felt like every muscle ached.

Lucas helped her stand. She looked woozily up at him. The red mark where the man had kicked him in the face was gone, and when he grinned at her, all his teeth were in place, despite the fact that she'd seen one fly out of his mouth. She was too sore and tired to process this new information.

She looked around her.

“Where's the body?” she wheezed.

“In the swamp. Fucker’s gator food now. Don't worry about none o’ that anyways. Let's get you home.”

She walked a few steps, dragging her feet.

“Aw, you can't walk it. Here.”

Lucas’s arm went round her shoulders and he stooped, scooping her up as if she weighed nothing. She let her head roll against his chest. Her eyes closed, and she was asleep again.

 

She woke again with light shining in her face. She put her hand to her eyes.

“Sorry, baby. I'll turn that off. Hold on.”

She was laid on the couch, the troublesome light turned off to be replaced with a dimmer lamp.

“There. That better?”

She managed to nod.

Lucas busied himself at the table, setting up an old fashioned pestle and mortar and throwing in a bunch of leaves. He started to grind them, chatting as he worked.

“Normally I'd put these herbs in chem fluid, but that's for external wounds. You can't drink it. An’ seein’ as most of what he did seems to have damaged inside yer throat, I'm gonna try somethin’ different. Eveline may be a murderous lil home-wreckin’ bitch, but she helped us grow these herbs, an’ believe me - they fuckin’ work on anythin’! Trust me, baby, you'll be good as new ‘fore you know it.” He peered into the bowl and began grinding again. “I gotta say, I'm fuckin’ proud o’ the way you handled yourself out there. Yer a little firecracker, ain’tcha? You fucked ‘im up gooood. Zoe came along ta see what all the fuss was about, couldn't believe what you did! Says she ain't never gonna say anythin’ to piss you off again. Course, had to tell Momma I did it, but she weren't too mad.”

He stopped grinding.

“Think this is the best I'm gonna get. Gonna have to dilute it some, though, cos I don't think you'll be able to swallow it with the state your throat’s in. That asshole sure did a number on you.”

He left the room, returning with a glass and a bottle of water. She watched as he spooned a thick green paste into the glass and added water before stirring it in. At this point all she wanted was a couple of Advil and a hot bath, but she was too tired to protest.

Finally satisfied with the consistency, he carried it over and helped her sit up, supporting her with his arm. It was nice to be looked after for a change, she reflected. She'd spent a lot of time in hospital over the years, and whilst she'd never liked the reasons she was in there, she'd enjoyed the coddling.

“Now I know it don't look very appetisin’, but this here's good shit, so try an’ drink it all.”

She took the glass from him dubiously, sniffing at the contents. It gave off a grassy smell, with a hint of something else she couldn't identify.

“Go on, now. Take yer medicine like a good girl.”

She made a face at him, but raised the glass obediently. The taste wasn't vile, but it was somehow  _ wrong _ . It was like those hideously expensive smoothies with unlikely sounding ingredients that they sold in juice bars, but as though someone had spiked it with a tiny amount of some sort of chemical cleaner. It hurt to swallow, but she did her best, trying to ignore the gritty texture, though the coldness of the fluid was soothing. She drained the weird mixture, leaving some slimy residue at the bottom of the glass.

“Uh-uh. Gotta get those bits too.” Lucas retrieved the spoon and scraped up the remaining sludge. “Open up, now - here comes the train!”

Casting a dirty look his way, Ellen allowed him to feed her the last little bit, grimacing as she did so. Lucas patted her on the back.

“There - that weren't so bad now.”

“Yes it was,” she answered thickly. Lucas sniggered.

“Whatever you say, darlin’. Let's get you off to bed.”

She struggled off the couch, finding to her amazement that she didn't ache as much as before. It was likely purely psychological, but she couldn't deny she felt better, although wild horses wouldn't have dragged the admission out of her. Lucas was looking distinctly smug though, as if he could tell.

In the bedroom he helped her take off the ruined dress.

“We didn't even get to fuck out there, did we?” he remarked, eying her as she got into bed. “Damn shame.” Noticing her look of alarm, he laughed. “Don't worry, I'm gonna leave you be for now. But when you wake up, you're gonna be more than ready for it, believe me. That stuff’ll have you  _ rarin’ _ to go.” He winked at her, turning off the light as he left the room.

 

Whether it was the events of the night or the herbs, she had weird dreams. To begin with, they were merely odd, but gradually became more disturbing. The man they'd killed lurched through many of them, the beer bottle neck protruding from his eye, making him look like some kind of zombie dalek. In one dream, he was choking her again, but this time instead of just choking her he was fucking her too, and though she'd never been into the whole choking-as-sexual thing, the strangling seemed to make her ten times hornier. When she looked down she discovered that what she'd thought was his dick was in fact the bottle neck, sticking out from his crotch where it had been jammed.

Even though it was pleasurable, she didn’t like how the dream was going, and some part of her consciousness managed to pull her out of it and dump her in another one. In this, she was naked and entwined in the vines that engulfed the greenhouse. They moved constantly as if they were alive, holding her absolute immobile. She tried to call out for help, but one of the vines took advantage of her open mouth and slithered in, sliding into her throat with a curiously fleshy flexing motion. It tasted partly like the green stuff she'd drunk and partly like cock. The worst part was that she was hopelessly turned on but unable to do anything about it. She writhed helplessly, the vines tightening their grip, and then Lucas was there, watching her struggles. He was telling her that if she wanted him to fuck her, she would have to ask for it, but she couldn't speak with the vine in her throat.

She woke up unspeakably frustrated, but the pain her throat had completely disappeared.

 

There were voices coming from the next room. Having another person down there seemed so alien that for a moment she thought she was still dreaming, but as she listened she realised the newcomer was Zoe.

“I don't understand why it has to be so complicated, Lucas. There's so many things that could go wrong.”

“I know, but we can't expect him to just walk in, steal the arm, and save the day. We throw him in at the deep end, he'll die straight away. He needs to work up to it, tackle one thing at a time. I'll be helpin’ ‘im, too. Leavin’ weapons an’ ammo for ‘im to find, puttin’ clues here ‘n’ there. He can't know I'm workin’ with ‘im, else he'll get lazy ‘n’ slip up. He needs to be on his guard all the time.”

“I guess so. But why have I gotta be so damn mysterious?”

“Look, just fuckin’ trust me ok? This'll work. Now. You been readin’ those notes I gave you, on how to make the serum?”

“Learned ‘em off by heart. I can do it, when the time comes. You sure there'll be enough for two?”

“Positive. Though I don't rightly know why we're helpin’ Mia, seein’ as how she was the one responsible for all this bullshit.”

“Because Ethan ain't gonna come all the way out here to rescue his wife an’ end up givin’ the only cure to someone he only just met. Unless he's really fucked up.” There was silence for a moment, then Zoe spoke again. “You sure we only need two?”

“Hell yeah. Told you, I don't need one.”

“No, not for you. For Ellen.”

“What? Why?”

“How d’you know she ain't infected? From your, y’know….. _ stuff _ .”

“From my  _ stuff _ ? Zoe, I believe the scientific term you're lookin’ for is  _ jism.” _

Zoe made a choking noise, and Ellen realised she was laughing.

“Lucas, you're disgustin’!”

“You were the one brought it up!”

“I know, but…..yuck!”

“Anyway, if she was, she woulda shown it by now. She's clean. Ain't no need for another serum.”

“Well, that's good.” Silence. ‘“I like her, though. She seems nice.”

“She is nice.”

“Too nice for  _ you _ .”

“Yeah, I'd agree with that. But I got her anyway.”

“What happens if this all works? What you gonna do with her when we leave?”

“I don't know…..” Lucas went silent, and Ellen listened fearfully.

“Y’know what? I wish I'd never involved her in all this. It ain't fair. I shoulda jest let her die in the cells or somethin’.”

“Or, y’know,  _ not kidnapped her in the first place….” _

“Shut up, Zoe. What I mean is, I’ve gotten way too attached to her. It ain't just fuckin’, Zoe. Not any more. I'm worried about what’ll happen to her when the shit hits the fan. I don't want her to get caught in the crossfire.”

“So let her go.”

“I tried. This evenin’. When Momma came round, I tried to get her to run, told her how to get to the highway. But she wouldn't go. Said she wanted to stay with me.”

“ _ Really? _ ”

“No need to sound so fuckin’ shocked Zoe!”

“Well, an’ there was me thinkin’ she seemed like such a level headed woman. She can't be if she's fallen for you….”

“If you ain't gonna contribute somethin’ constructive, Zoe, might I suggest - “

“Yeah, I know. Shut the fuck up. She sure does complicate things, though.”

The conversation was doing nothing to calm Ellen’s fears. On the one hand, Lucas had admitted that he'd developed an attachment to her, which was good, but on the other they were both talking about her like she was some kind of burden, a problem to be dealt with.

Sat there alone in the dark, Ellen felt tears of self-pity prickle at her eyes. She rubbed them away impatiently. She knew, ultimately, that she could survive in the outside world. Hell, she'd been doing it for 36 years, and life had thrown some fucked up stuff her way. She knew she'd be able to start again from scratch. But the truth was, she didn't want to. Not without Lucas.

She'd done worse stuff in her short time here than she'd done in her entire life, but being with him made her feel alive in a way she'd never experienced before.

There was a word in the back of her mind, one she didn't want to think, let alone say out loud. A soft, stupid word bandied around in the chick-flicks she despised. A word beginning with L.

She shuddered. Her whole life had been an exercise in toughening her up, preparing her for how shitty the world could be, but the problem was throughout it all she'd been unable to shake her empathy and compassion, though she'd tried. And it appeared Lucas was just fucked-up enough to appeal to that side of her.

They were talking again.

“You mean you never checked to see if she's on birth control? You oughta be more careful, Lucas - we don't want a bunch o’ mini Lucas’s runnin’ around here!”

“I jest assumed….”

“Well that was fuckin’ dumb! She could be knocked up right now. ‘less you ain't up to it, o’ course.”

“What d’ya mean by that?”

“It ain't nuthin’ to be ashamed of, Lucas. Lots o’ men are infertile, don't make ‘em less o’ a man….”

“Uh-uh. No way. Nope. I ain't havin’ that. My spunk is so potent, I could get the Statue o’ Liberty pregnant!”

Part of the way through the conversation, Ellen had put on a dress, and now she opened the door.

“I can't have babies.”

Zoe and Lucas started, looking guilty.

“So, y’know, you don't haveta worry about that. You can still go in bareback, Lucas. I was pregnant once, but Zack got mad at me about somethin’ an’, well, I woke up in hospital. Not for the first time. Anyways, that was that. I can't have babies. Was kinda relieved about it, to tell the truth, cuz I don't know what kinda daddy Zack woulda made, an’ I know I’d o’ let him kill me dead ‘fore I let ‘im hurt any child o’ mine. Does that answer both o’ your questions?”

They both nodded, Zoe looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“I didn't mean nothin’ by it….” she began, but Ellen smiled.

“That's ok. You were right. You're obviously the sensible one o’ the two o‘ you,” she remarked, looking archly at Lucas.

“Well, I better get goin’, I guess,” said Zoe, preparing to make her escape from an awkward domestic situation.

“Ok,” said Lucas. “Imma start settin’ up the cameras soon. Gonna need a lot o’ them…..”

Zoe nodded, picking up a backpack similar to Lucas’s but purple. Cans clanked inside.

Lucas let her out and closed the door. He looked Ellen up and down, a faint smile on his face.

“You're lookin’ better. An’ your voice sounds fine. Didn't I tell ya…..”

Ellen held up her hand, stopping him.

“Yes. You told me. You were right. No need to be smug about it.”

Ellen knew she was better, but not just better than she'd been after the attack - better than she'd been before, too. Numerous little aches and pains that she hadn't even been aware of had disappeared, leaving her feeling 20 years younger.

“You know what else you were right about, too?”

“What's that?”

“About how much I wanna fuck you now I'm awake.”

His grin widened.

“Yes! I been left with blue balls all this time, Ellen, you wouldn't believe how much I wanna - “

He stopped mid - sentence as the baseball bat she'd found under the bed connected with his temple, his legs crumpling beneath him.

 

She couldn't believe she hadn't looked under the bed before. There had been so much useful stuff crammed under there it was at the point of overflowing, and she felt like an idiot for never checking. She brought out the rope she'd found, the one which on closer examination she discovered had a steel core, and went to work.

 

She'd worked quickly and was only just in time - Lucas regained consciousness moments after she'd fastened the last knot and retreated. There was no hazy, “Where am I?”, period with him, no dazed expression or slow realisation. One minute he was out, the next struggling and cursing.

She stood a safe distance away, knowing she mustn't show fear, as if he were a vicious dog she were trying to face down. She already regretted her decision, but now she'd done it, she had to follow it through.

Lucas was tied on the floor sitting against the couch, his arms outstretched to either side, his wrists secured firmly to the metal legs. They seemed sturdy enough and the couch itself was a huge, archaic monolith of a thing. She just had to hope they'd both hold out.

“What the FUCK?” he screamed. “What the ACTUAL. FUCK? Ellen, you get over here right now and get these fuckin’ ropes off me or I swear…..” He pulled at the ropes vainly. “What were you fuckin’ thinkin’?”

He was terrifying, his eyes spitting fire, his snarling mouth seeming capable of tearing her apart. She waited, as outwardly calm as she could, watching his contortions.

She'd partially undressed him whilst he was unconscious. His hoodie and the t shirt he'd worn underneath were draped over the back of a nearby chair and for the first time she could see him in the flesh, as it were. His muscles were hard, bulging knots under his skin, straining against his bonds as he writhed in perfect fury.

“Let me up now, Ellen, and maybe I won't FUCKIN’ KILL YOU!” He slammed his head backwards, making the couch rock on its legs. “You stupid fuckin’ bitch!”

She took a deep steadying breath.

“Calm yourself, Lucas,” she said, quietly. He subsided a fraction, glaring at her with murder in his eyes. “Please. I just wanna talk to you.”

“TALK to me? Are you out o’ your fuckin ‘ MIND, woman? You coulda talked to me without fuckin’ knockin’ me out!”

“I know. But this is somethin’ I have to do.”

He pressed his lips together furiously, shaking his head.

“I get it,” he said. “You do wanna leave. Fine. Just fuck off if you're gonna do that. Don't hang around and fuckin’ lecture me first.”

“What? No! I ain't leavin’ you, Lucas. Why would you think that? I told you - I got nowhere to go.”

“Then why THIS?” He shook his wrists, rattling the couch legs against the floor.

“‘Cause if we're gonna spend time together - as equals, with me choosin’ to stay - we gotta get some ground rules in place. Things have gotta change.”

His eyes widened in disbelief.

“You tied me to a fuckin’ couch to discuss our fuckin’ relationship? Girl, you ain't playin’ with a full deck!”

“I'm a woman, Lucas. Not a girl. A grown woman with a mind of her own an’ certain needs.”

Lucas closed his eyes and tipped his head back, blowing air through his nose in frustration.

“I knew it was a fuckin’ mistake bringin’ you down here…..” he muttered. “Shoulda fuckin’ let you die or turn.  An’ I never shoulda kept you.”

“So why did you, Lucas?”

He stared at her.

“Pussy,” he told her. “That's all.”

“I see. There weren't no other reason? I mean, you couldn't o’, for example, killed me an’ gotten a younger model? What's so special about  _ this _ pussy that you can't let it go?”

He bristled.

“Just seemed easier to keep you ‘cause I'd already broken you in. I trained you!”

She smiled.

“Did you now? And what exactly was it you trained me to do? Suck cock? Honey, you may remember, I had years of experience at that. Naw. I think you kept me for other reasons. An’ don't think I ain't enjoyed myself - I have, but it's been a hard slog an’ most o’ the enjoyment I got I had to help myself to. Because in all that time I've been down here, you haven't  seen a fraction of what I could do for you. Never even tried to find out.”

He apparently had no response.

“Now, I'm not mad. Really. You're young. Prolly watched too much internet porn - the ones with the women who have an orgasm if you so much as tap them on the fuckin ’ shoulder.  But Lucas, real women ain't like that. We're a lot more complicated and we all like different things.”

Ellen sat down in one of the swivel chairs and pulled it closer on its castors, maintaining a safe distance.

“Did you know, for instance, that 75% of women can only reach orgasm through clitoral stimulation?”

Lucas made a face.

“Don't look like that!” she scolded. “All your dirty-mindedness and you can't stand to hear about that? It's important, Lucas, ‘cause I'm one of those 75%, and not once did you bother to find out what I wanted. Well, that changes now. I'm gonna show you, Lucas Baker. I'm gonna show you what you been missin’ out on, an’ you're gonna fuckin’ like it!”

She stood up. For a moment, Lucas looked terrified.

“We ain't got time for this, Ellen!” he pleaded. “I got stuff to do!”

She shook her head.

“Uh-uh. You wanted it, now you're gettin’ it.”

She kept her dress on. She wanted him to experience the sensation of being exposed while someone else was fully clothed.

She sat back in her chair, and Lucas frowned at her in confusion. Using her feet, she scooted it over until she was directly in front of him.

“You should watch carefully,” she suggested. “You need to know how to do this.”

She opened her knees, slipping her hand between her legs. Seeing him tied and struggling had made her even wetter than she'd been when she'd woken up, and she dipped her fingers into the slick pool of her pussy with a sigh of enjoyment. Lucas watched her, open-mouthed, his eyes fixed on the area of shadow formed by her dress. She hitched the hem up so he could get a better view. He shifted uncomfortably.

“I know you can enjoy yourself regardless o’ whether I'm havin’ a good time,” she told him, idly stroking herself. “But it don't matter how many times you've come in me. You haven't even scratched the surface o’ how good it can be.”

Ellen smiled at him.

“Y’see, if I'm horny like I am now, I'm more likely to wanna do stuff to you,” she purred, sliding her fingers up to her clit and starting to rub slowly, moving in small circles. “Make me want you, an’ I reckon I could take you right up to the edge o’ heaven. Right now, I could be thinkin’ of anything - anyone! I could be thinkin’ about gettin gang-banged by the Louisiana Cow Sharks, or of sittin’ on Orlando Bloom’s face. But I'm not. You know what I'm thinkin’ about?” She moved her other hand down, pushing a finger inside her as the other still worked in its circles. “I'm thinkin’ about how you look sat down there, tryin’ to pretend you ain't gettin’ hard watchin’ me. An’ all I wanna do is get down there and ride that dick like I'm in a motherfuckin’ rodeo.”

“Fuckin’ do it, then!” growled Lucas, his face flushed. “Don't just sit there teasin’ me.”

She shook her head.

“Now that ain't the way to get what you want, Lucas. You've had your way far too often than is good for you, and now you’re like a spoiled little kid. You let a child have everythin’ they want whenever they want it, they don't grow up appreciatin’ stuff. They just expect it. But you take a kid who ain't had much and give ‘em the latest video game or somethin’ - it means the world to them.” She eyed him cynically. “I think it's time you started to value me.”

Ellen withdrew her fingers with a sticky, sucking sound, climbing off her chair and standing over him, one foot either side of his bound legs. Lucas looked up at her, his face full of sullen resentment, and opened his mouth to speak.

“Hush now, Lucas.” She crouched over him, lowering herself to her knees, her crotch hovering over the formidable lump of his hard on. She put her fingers to his lips to quieten him, and for a heart-stopping moment she thought he was going to bite her. His teeth showed briefly, but as the smell of her sex on her fingers reached him he hesitated. She smiled.

“That smell good to you?” She dragged her finger over his mouth, smearing her pussy slime across his lips. His tongue crept out, touching her fingertips. “That's how I taste, Lucas, if you were ever interested in findin’ out. You were only moved to do it when I was bleedin’, and that's a shame. You like that?”

Instead of answering, he opened his mouth and drew her fingers in, sucking the juices from them. His eyes were half-closed, savouring. She felt his teeth touch the bone of her knuckle and tighten dangerously before he released her. She drew her wet fingers from his mouth.

Lucas leaned forward to kiss her, but she pulled away out of his reach.

“Not yet, Lucas. You gotta earn it.”

She stood, lifting the hem of her dress, and pushed her crotch into his face.

“Lick it, Lucas. Do it good, make me cum, and you get a reward.”

His inner struggle was almost tangible, but she was patient. The muscles on his outstretched arms seemed to thrum with tension as the scent of excited pussy filled his nose. Her dress covered his head, shutting out all other sights and smells. She could feel his hot breath against her mound, and then, hesitantly, his tongue, wet and limber, slithering between her lips to touch her clit.

She sighed in satisfaction, relishing the contact, relaxing against him. As he caught the taste of her his tongue worked more urgently, probing at the sensitive bud with little, flickering motions that made her catch her breath. She put her knee on his shoulder to steady herself, placing her hands on the the back of the couch. He stretched out his neck, sucking the little nub between his teeth. Moaning, she pushed her hips forward, tipping her pelvis to give him better access. His tongue continued to torment her, his technique clumsy but made all the better by his earnestness. He was emitting little grunts of effort and enjoyment, his shoulders straining beneath her as he tried to fit more of her against his mouth, his lips tightening on her clit. She began to help him, rocking against his face, his long tongue surprisingly muscular, lapping at her.

She could feel her orgasm building, more from the situation than his skill, and though she'd intended to make him work hard for his reward, she realised it was going to be over quicker than she'd thought.

“Oh, yes, Lucas, that's it, good boy, you're doin’ it, you're gonna make me come, that's right, that's it, oh fuck, yes….”

She ground her pussy into his face, gritting her teeth, feeling his head knock against the couch cushion behind him. His hands were clenched into fists, the tendons standing out his arms, his muffled moans vibrating against her tingling flesh.

“Oh, yes, I'm gonna come, oh, oh, oh ohhhhhhh…..!”

It hit her in a slow, widening glow, very different from the high-speed jolts she gave herself. If her self-pleasure was a jetpack, Lucas’s tongue was a slow, hardworking climb up a ladder, but all the sweeter for the effort when she reached the peak.

“Ohhhh, that's gooood…..” She rocked against him, riding the aftershocks, her pussy clenching with slowly weakening spasms. “Good boy….”

She sighed, and pulled away with shaking legs.

Lucas leaned his head back against the couch, his eyes dazed, his mouth smeared with her juices. His chest was heaving, taking in deep, well-earned breaths.

“I gotta say, that was real good, Lucas, for a first attempt,” she admitted, sinking down onto him. She kissed him, tasting herself on his tongue. He gazed at her stupidly. His hard on was a rigid bar beneath her.

She stroked the tense flesh of his arms, caressing the multiple rings of pink scar tissue that striped them like the rings that banded the inside of a tree trunk. She wondered how he'd gotten them.

She turned her attention to his torso. She'd known he was strong - had felt the evidence - but without any clothing to cover his chest she could see the wiry muscles strung over his body. With so little flesh to cover them, each muscle group seemed to stand out, perfectly defined, as if in an anatomical diagram. She knew the names of some of them - the abs, the pecs - and although she'd never had much of an appreciation for the male physique before, the sheer intensity of his power grouped into such a narrow area was fascinating. There was only one thing that marred the picture - the shiny scars across his sternum. The reason he'd never uncovered himself in front of her.

Ellen traced the letters that had been carved into his chest once upon a time, wondering who could have done such a thing. The letters weren't distorted or broken, so she assumed they'd been done after his body had stopped growing.

L-O-S-E-R. The “s” was jagged, like a lightning bolt.

“Who did this to you, Lucas?” she asked.

His jaw clenched.

“Oliver. Him an’ his friends, after school one day. Said it was cause I insulted Becky, but really it was just cause he wanted to.” He snorted. “And they always called  _ me _ a psycho.”

“Where's Oliver now? Which college?”

“Why?”

“‘cause I think we need to kill that fucker for what he did you.”

Ellen felt Lucas’s cock twitch in response to her words.

“Shit, Ellen….let me up, I wanna fuck you!”

She shook her head.

“Can't do that, Lucas. But I'll show you what I can do.”

She unzipped him, easing his stiff cock out of the confines of his jeans. He groaned as the air hit him. Taking her time, she lowered her head until her lips nearly touched him, teasing him with her hot breath before extending her tongue and tracing a wet line along the underside of his shaft with its tip. She saw the muscles in his stomach tense, pulling in. She drew a trail back down, her hands going to the handles of his hip bones to push him downwards as he tried to rise up to meet her. She nibbled the loose skin of his scrotum with her lips, opening her mouth wide to take one in, then the other. She took her time, licking him delicately, swirling her tongue around the dense flesh of his helmet, lapping up the clear fluids leaking from him. She tormented him till his cock was practically vibrating and he was panting with frustration before finally taking him into her mouth, stimulating him carefully to ensure he didn't go off in her throat. His moans echoed off the walls as he fidgeted, trying to thrust into her, but whenever he tried that trick she pulled away till he settled down. 

She was waiting for the right cue, the words she wanted to hear from him. He cursed her more than once, threatened her a couple of times, but finally he said it, his voice cracked and defeated.

“C’mon, Ellen…..please…..pleeasse…..”

She looked up. His face was twisted as if in agony, beads of sweat standing out on his skin.

She gave him a final, brief suck before straightening up. She was wetter than ever, glad he'd finally relented so she could get her own share of the pleasure. She kissed him.

“You remember what we talked about doin’ last night? What we woulda done if we'd had lube?”

He nodded slowly, eyes wide.

“Well, we're gonna do that now. I know you promised you wouldn't hurt me, but I know you get over excited sometimes an’ forget how strong you are. So this is the way we haveta do it - with me drivin’. Now, I know you're angry at me for tyin’ you up, an’ if you want, I can untie you an’ we can fuck however you like. But if I untie you, my asshole is out o’ bounds. You understand?”

He gazed at her, uncomprehending for a moment, then nodded.

“You still want me to untie you?”

He frowned. She could see his internal struggle. He wanted to be released but he also wanted what she was offering.

He shook his head.

“Uh, I didn't hear you. Do you want me to untie you?”

“....no…..”

It was quiet, but he'd said it.

“Ok. Good boy. You jest wait, I won't be long.”

She climbed off him and stood. She'd heard people used toothpaste as anal lube, but she didn't like that idea one little fucking bit. No, what she needed would more likely be in the kitchen than the bathroom.

She found butter and rejected the idea, simply because perishables were such a goddam precious commodity here, though she suspected he'd used it the first night. After a few minutes of searching she found a bottle of olive oil, covered with a layer of dust, at the back of a shelf.

When she returned, he was as she'd left him, his hard on unrelenting, a veiny pillar of flesh rising from his open fly. She stood over him.

“Well, I found this. It ain't perfect, but beggars can't be choosers now, can they?”

She unscrewed the lid and tilted the bottle, letting a trickle of oil dribble from its mouth. The yellow fluid hit the tip of his cock and he gasped as it began to glide over him, pouring down in a golden cascade that gradually enveloped him. She didn't stint on the oil, continuing to pour even after his dick had a thorough coating, watching with fascination as it pooled greasily in his pubic hair and speckled his lower belly. Unable to help herself, she sank to her knees over him, wrapping her fingers round him and sliding them up from base to tip, gathering a ridge of silky oil around her fist.

“I just realised I ain't never done this to you before,” she remarked. “Reckon I could bring you off like this real easy….”

He shook his head frantically.

“No! Please…”

“Aw, don't worry baby, I ain't gonna. I promised you buttsex and that's what you're gonna get. Hold on now.”

She examined her glistening fingers, and after a moment of consideration poured another dose over.

“No such thing as too much lube when it comes to booty-fuckin’,” she confided, using her oily fingers to open herself up. She'd have preferred him to do this for her, but with his hands tied it would be tricky. She briefly entertained the idea of filling his mouth with the makeshift lube and making him oil her hole with his tongue, but although the idea excited her she thought it might be pushing him too far this time.

One finger went up, her ring tightening around it, and she forced herself to relax, sliding it up to the first knuckle, then up to the second. When she felt comfortable enough, she pushed her index finger in to join it, stretching herself wider.

“You know,” she said breathlessly. “This is gonna be a long, hard slog. You can't rush this. And we might not get all o’ ya in, cuz your dick is looong. But I reckon it'll be worth it, don't you?”

He didn't reply, apparently struck dumb, but he watched her open-mouthed, the veins on his neck standing out.

“Ok.” She put the bottle to one side and straddled him, her greasy hand on his shoulder. “I'm ready as I'll ever be.”

She lowered herself onto him, feeling the slippery tip of his cock nudge her ring. He was breathing in short, sharp gasps as she began to lower herself slowly. There was so much oil between them that the head of his cock skidded, and he grunted with disappointment, but she reached out and grasped the base firmly, holding it upright.

There was resistance, her body screaming that this was wrong, but she ignored it. What the fuck did it know? She relaxed, pushing herself more firmly over him, sinking down. The first bit was the worst, but as the muscle eased under her will, there was a brief stab of pain before it surrendered. He was in, just the tip. She was in a perfect position to observe his face as the sensation hit him, and his eyes closed even as his mouth opened wider. She smiled, squatting down further, accepting more of his length into her, millimetre by cautious millimetre.

His head rolled back helplessly as the cement floor bruised her knees. She had him - he was hers at that moment. She controlled his pleasure, she owned his body. She ran her hand down his bare chest, feeling the tension flowing under her fingers. Such caged energy felt like it could power a city if converted to electricity.

“Holy motherfuckin’ jesus….” he whispered reverently. “That's - oh fuck….”

He tried to thrust upwards, not, she sensed, to attempt to take back some control, but because he simply could not help it.

“Uh-uh. No.”

She grabbed his face in her hand, the olive oil sliding over his skin. Her fingers dug in to maintain purchase, forcing him to look at her.

“I'm drivin’, remember? Don't you fuckin’ move!”

“I'm sorry, Ellen. I didn't mean to….”

She stroked his cheek.

“I know…..”

She eased him a little bit further in and he whimpered, his eyebrows drawing together as if he was in pain. Maybe he was - she'd heard it could pinch a lot, but she knew he'd elect to continue if she gave him the choice. Drunk on power and the feeling of a solid dick invading her ass, she slid her oily fingers into his mouth, making him suck them clean. He worked diligently, paying particular attention to the first two fingers which had been inside her, the warm velvet of his tongue swirling around her knuckles.

He was as far in now as she could comfortably manage.

“Here we go, Lucas,” she whispered, lifting herself and sinking back down, feeling the penetrating organ recede then fill her again, pulling her fingers from his mouth just in time as his jaw clenched.

With her on top, she suffered none of the discomfort of a dick pounding too hard in and out of her, and all of the pleasure. She rocked herself on his cock blissfully, able to concentrate on pacing herself to her own satisfaction. Her fingers found her clit, her other hand filling her empty pussy. As she thrust her fingers deeper inside herself, she could feel the head of his dick moving through the wall of her cunt, nudging her probing fingertips, the sensation so alien but intense that she almost lost her mind. The muscles on the inside of her thighs twitched and jumped as Lucas groaned and cursed under her, his words becoming unintelligible rising moans as she picked up her speed. 

“How d’ya like that,sugar?” She hissed, her fingers becoming more frantic on her clit. It burned her to the very centre of her being. “How d’ya like fuckin’ me up the ass? You love it, don't you, cuz it's so fuckin’ dirty.”

Her fingers sucked wetly out of her pussy as she clung to his shoulder for support. His cock was battering the walls of her rectum now, making her feel breathless and out of control.

“It's dirty like you are, ain't it?” she gasped, her short nails digging into the skin of his shoulder. “You're a filthy, dirty, sonofabitch…..”

She saw his orgasm written over his face before she felt it, his eyes opening wide and regarding her with a mixture of shock and gratitude. He really hadn't known how good it could get. A strange, animalistic sound was being forced from his throat, and it was that more than anything else that finally finished her off. She came at the same time as he did, her internal muscles milking the spunk from him, the tip of his prick butting against her sphincter. She put her arm round him, clinging to his bare skin as the sensations died out.

 

She sat up. He was starting to go soft. She eased herself slowly off his cock, gritting her teeth - it was often worse coming out than going in. She unfastened the knots at his wrists, rubbing the reddened flesh to help the circulation. He was watching her, his expression unreadable. When he finally moved, she found herself recoiling, half expecting his newly-released hands to wrap around her throat, but instead he slipped his arms around her and pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair.

“You mad at me?” she asked.

She felt him shake his head.

“Guess I should be,” he said. “But I ain't. That was….. well, I ain't got words to describe it.”

His hands stroked her back, tracing the line of her spine. His heartbeat was slowing, but she still felt it knocking against her breasts.

“Just don't knock me out again, huh? Cuz that  _ hurt _ !”

“I'm sorry, baby. I didnt  _ wanna _ hurt you, cuz honest to God, you mean the absolute fuckin’ world to me…..I - ” She clamped her mouth shut. She'd very nearly said the L-word, an action she blamed on the aftereffects of a knock-down, drag-out orgasm. She tightened her arms round him. Once she said that there was no going back.

There was a soft knock at the door, and they both jumped, startled.

“What the  _ fuck…? _ ”

Lucas nearly threw her off him in his hurry to get to his feet.

“Who’s there?” he demanded.

“Uh, Lucas…?” It was Zoe’s voice, sounding awkward and uncertain. “If you two’ve finished - I can't get out the main door. You have to let me out….”

Lucas looked at the table where the two keycards sat.

“Shit.” He raised his voice. “How long you been out there?”

“Long enough to know I never want to hear those noises again. Jesus wept, Lucas!”

 

Lucas left with Zoe after a rudimentary clean up. As he shut the door behind him, Ellen heard Zoe ask why she could smell olive oil.

She waited until their footsteps had disappeared, then went over the keypad by the door. After a moment of consideration, she punched in the code 1019. There was a buzz and a click as the door popped open.

“How about that. She was right.”

Ellen closed the door again and lay down on the couch.


	8. Betrayal and Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas continues to prepare for Ethan’s coming. Whilst Ellen and Lucas resolve some differences and do some coming of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end, much as I hate it, so this chapter is a little shorter.
> 
> There's some angry sex in this bit that I really enjoyed writing and had some help with the editing because I got carried away......

Lucas unlocked the door to his workroom with some ceremony and let it swing open.

“Well, there it is. My inner sanctum. Ain't nuthin’ special ‘bout it, but guess there's no point me keepin’ secrets from y’all. You know what I do, now.”

Ellen peered through the open doorway with trepidation. She'd dreamed about this room several times in her first days here, and whilst in her dreams there had never been the severed heads of Lucas’s previous wives, there had been worse things. The mould had been primary, climbing the walls, exuding from the ceiling, creeping out from under the door.

On first glance, it appeared untidy, but on closer examination she realised there was order in the chaos. One wall was reserved entirely for a huge, long desk, stacked with scraps of paper scribbled with notes, several keyboards, a humming monolith of a desktop computer that looked like he'd built himself and an entire wall of mismatched monitors.

The far corner appeared to be entirely dedicated to electronic components. There were a couple of old filing cabinets, drawers vomiting cables and wires, their tops piled with bits of circuit board and the innards of electrical equipment that looked like it had been scavenged equally from old household devices and obscure lab equipment.

In another corner were more simple items. Chains. Padlocks. Animal traps, jagged teeth speckled with could have been dried blood or rust. A large machete, its blade dull, leaned against the wall, next to what looked like a sheathed katana.

There was a workbench laden with power tools, covered with metal shavings, and a table stacked only with ammunition and green glass bottles filled with the healing mixture he'd made from the herbs. An old dresser completed the space, its compartments filled with herbs, wraps of grey powder, and plastic medical bags filled with some sort of chemicals.

“Been stockpilin’,” said Lucas. “Makin’ sure there'll be enough supplies when Ethan comes. That there, on the bench, is gonna be a flamethrower, and the thing next to it an old military grenade launcher!”

He cackled, obviously delighted with his contraptions.

“Where do you get all this stuff?”

Lucas shrugged.

“You'd be surprised what people leave lyin’ around.”

“A fuckin’  _ grenade launcher _ , though?”

He laughed.

“Ok, maybe it weren't just lyin’ around. But never mind.”

He gestured towards the wall of monitors.

“When the time comes, we'll be able ta keep tabs on Ethan’s progress. Gotta set up cameras all over the house. Gonna get round that one by telling my folks it's ta stop people escapin’. They'll let me do it. And we'll be communicatin’ will this ole thing. Got one in all the main areas.”

He patted an old, black push-button telephone.

Ellen shook her head.

“Wow. I must say, I'm impressed, Lucas. This musta taken a lot of preparation!”

“Uh-huh.  Ain't foolproof, cuz a lot of it rides on how Ethan manages, but I'm bettin’ he can handle it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You ever see that movie ‘Mr and Mrs Smith?’ Brad Pitt ‘n’ Angelina Jolie? Well, from what I can tell with my diggin’, Mia and Ethan were like that, only without tryin’ ta kill each other. Ethan had no idea what his wife actually did for a livin’, and Mia had no idea about her husband's past. He used ta work for a pretty serious organisation. Retired ‘fore he met Mia. I tell you, that man has been trained to kick some serious ass.”

“So he should be able to tackle the monsters?”

“Not just the monsters. My parents too…..” He shook his head sadly. “Much as I hate it, they need killin’. No hope for them. Gotta face facts. They died long ago - just monsters left now.”

“Oh, baby. That's terrible!”

“Bet your sweet ass it is. But if he can kill them, he can kill Eveline.” He smiled grimly. “That bitch’s days are numbered.”

 

Lessons started.

During the day, Lucas took her to the barn where Lonny had died. He'd taken down the Christmas lights and was replacing them with some powerful industrial lighting and old speakers.

There was fresh straw scattered over the floor, so she couldn't see any evidence of Lonny’s remains, and Lucas said he'd hosed everything down, but she liked to imagine she smelled old, rotting blood around a certain area.

Lucas taught her how to shoot a handgun, setting up targets first of all in the form of the mannequins he seemed to have in abundance, then progressing to plastic wrapped bodies hanging from the rafters so she’d become accustomed to the sights, smells and sounds of bullets hitting flesh. She puked the first couple of times, especially when Lucas kicked them to set them swinging and vile brown fluids leaked out, but after a while she was able to ignore it and concentrate on shooting.

On more than one occasion, he tried to persuade her to leave.

“It ain't gonna be safe, Ellen, even with you knowin’ how ta shoot. We might have to leave in a hurry!”

But she was adamant. She was staying.

At night, the lessons were her domain.

She taught him how to use his fingers and tongue to pleasure her, how to make sex last longer, how to vary techniques and positions. At first, the look of concentration on his face when he crouched between her legs was almost humorous, but she wasn't laughing 3 nights later when he got the hang of it and had her splayed on the bed, a quivering, dripping mess as he fingered both her holes and lashed at her clit with his tongue.

He began to appreciate her desire more, too, becoming almost sadistic with his need to take her right to the edge and watch her squirm. Whereas before he'd only been concerned with getting his dick wet, now he took pleasure in manipulating her just to see her face twist in helpless ecstasy and to hear the noises he could coax from her.

Lucas was a quick learner and, as his inventions had already shown, he was very good with his hands.

 

Ellen sensed the time was getting near. Zoe spent a lot of time down in their quarters, discussing plans and helping with some of the simpler builds. Lucas had a production line of cameras on the go, mongrels he pieced together from many different sources.

He became quiet and morose at times. Ellen thought he might be depressed. His way of life, fucked up and dangerous though it may be, was coming to an end, and it had been all he'd known for a long time. The future was uncertain, and that, along with the knowledge that his parents were finally going to die, had to affect him.

He still kept trying to make her leave, using coercion and bribery along with plain old torture.

“I'll make you come if you promise to leave,” he'd say, his fingers tormenting her sweet spot, watching her tremble on the very edge of orgasm. She'd shake her head if she was unable to speak and he'd always relent, though he might try and punish her with rough fucking that she ultimately loved. It was a poor punishment.

 

He took her to the barn and left her alone in the middle of the floor, taking himself off to an old stall.

“Gun loaded, Ellen?”

“Of course. What am I shootin’, Lucas?”

“You'll see. It's the final test. Remember to aim for the head.”

He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled, a high note that pierced the musty air. Off in the shadows, there was a squelching noise.

“Lucas? What's that?” she asked nervously.

“Go ‘n’ find out,” he suggested, tossing her a small flashlight.

Cautiously, she ducked around the stairs towards the darkened area beyond. Shining her light into the corners, she saw heaps of rotting straw and a large patch of mould that glistened and pulsed. As she watched, the substance formed a hump, stretching like liquorice taffy and bulging at top. The noise coming from it was sickening, a wet, slobbery sound that made her gorge rise.

“Lucas! There's one o’ them things here…..”

“I know. You best finish it off, baby. It's a new one. It ain't fast.”

The beam of light wavered as her hands began to shake, bouncing off fast-forming, crude features. The head took shape first, the open mouth displaying crooked fangs longer than her fingers. Next, arms detached, pulling away from the goop, unfurling clawed hands.

“Shoot it, Ellen!” Lucas was calling, his voice sounding like it was coming from the bottom of a well.

But she couldn't shoot, could only watch as the puddle of mould gave birth to the rest of the creature, yanking its limbs free and starting its lumbering way towards her.

She dropped the flashlight, the bulb smashing and plunging the thing into a blackness the same shade as itself.

She stood listening to its dragging footsteps coming nearer, unable to move. Somewhere far away, Lucas was shouting her name, his voice reaching new heights of panic. She heard his footsteps approaching rapidly. A foul breeze wafted past her face as the thing took a swing at her and missed.

Ellen snapped out of it, backing away even as Lucas appeared beside her, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of reach. She shook his grip off.

“I'm ok Lucas. Wasn't, but I am now. Gotta get it into the light though. Broke ma flashlight.”

He retreated without argument, giving her space. She started to back away, drawing the creature along in her wake. It was clumsy and unsteady and she was able to keep a good distance between them. As they reached the circle of light in the centre of the barn, she studied it. It was smaller than a lot of the others she'd seen, and for some reason seemed familiar. Though it felt ridiculous, she called out to it.

“Heidi? That you,honey?”

It hesitated, tilting its head, making a drawn out groan, before resuming its shambling progress.

“I'm so sorry, sweetie,” said Ellen, raising her gun.

Four shots later and its head had exploded, spurting yellowish slime and chunks of jellied mould in all directions. The body slumped to the floor, limbs still moving spastically for a few seconds before it lay still.

“Whoo-wee! You had me worried there for a while, baby.” Lucas admitted. “Looks like you seized up.”

“I did.”

“Yeah, but you got control o’ yourself when it counted. Did real good, babygirl.” He gave her a hefty kiss. “C’mon, let's get back. You finished yer trainin’.”

 

Not enough air.

She woke up to a sudden, stifling feeling, suffocation, opening her eyes but seeing only blackness. She tried to call out, but the darkness swallowed her voice completely, something over her face swallowing her breath too. She flailed her arms with panicky desperation, feeling emptiness, then a sleeve, an arm.

Her struggles weakened. The pressure over her face disappeared. She gasped, pulling in oxygen, dispersing the black shadows over her vision. Lucas was there, his arms cradling her head.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry……”

She clung to him in confusion, forcing words from a dry mouth.

“Lucas? What….?”

“You had a bad dream,” he told her, climbing into bed next to her, his arms wrapping around her. He kissed her cheek, her forehead, her lips. “Was just a bad dream.”

She tasted dust and sweat, pretended to be asleep as he slipped the pillow back under her head.

 

He acted as though nothing had happened, but when she went to use the bathroom the next day she studied herself in the spotted mirror over the sink. There were small red dots in her eyes she hadn't had before, tiny threads of crimson veins.

She burst out of the bathroom.

“Why, Lucas?”

He looked up from the camera he was fiddling with.

“What ya talkin’ about, baby?”

She was shaking with rage and betrayal, her fists clenched.

“You put a pillow over my face last night! You tried ta kill me!”

“Aw, baby, I wouldn't do that! Musta been a bad dream….”

He sounded convincing, but his face told a different story.

“Don't you lie to me, you rotten fuckin’ snake! You tried to murder me in my sleep!”

He dropped the camera as she rushed at him, fists swinging. She managed to catch him a good clout around the side of his face before he put his arms up to shield it, so she turned her attention to the rest of him. She hit his shoulders, his ribs, his belly. Other than to protect his face, he did nothing to defend himself. Her blows must have been like insect bites to him, a mere annoyance, but she kept at it, wanting to bite him, claw out his eyes.

“Don't lie to me, Lucas!” Her fury was exquisite, incandescent. “Don't you ever fuckin’ lie to me!”

Her arms grew tired. She didn't know how many ineffective punches she'd landed, but he'd sat there and taken them all. He lowered his arms as she started sobbing. He reached out for her but she knocked his hands away.

“Don't touch me!” She rubbed her eyes with bruised knuckles. Hitting him was like punching a pillowcase full of wire hangers.

“I'm sorry Ellen.” His voice was quiet but sincere. “I'm scared, see. Scared o’ somethin’ happenin’ to you when the shit hits the fan. Scared o’ somethin’ happenin’ to me so I won't be able to protect you. I sat there last night, for hours, jest imaginin’ all the stuff that could go wrong and I got so desperate I managed ta convince myself it’d be better to just….finish you off maself. Peaceful, like. But I couldn't do it. Jest couldn't. I'm so sorry, baby…”

Ellen slumped down onto the couch. She felt so weary she could barely hold her head up.

“You won't  _ leave _ !” he said, kicking a chair with frustration, sending it flying. “I keep tryin’ to make you, even though it's hard for me to give you up, but you won't go! Why can't you just do as yer told?”

Ellen smiled grimly.

“My momma raised me stubborn. She hadn't, I wouldn't be here right now. Lucas, I ain't had many choices in my life. Most o’ the time decisions were taken outta my hands, and I jest had to go along with what other people decided. Stayin’ is my choice.  _ Mine _ . An’ I'm tellin’ you now, I'd rather die screamin’ at the hands o’ one o’ those fuckin’ monsters you got in the barn than quietly at the hands o’ the man I trust.” She glared at him. “Don't you betray me, Lucas. Don't you ever. I will not stand for it. And don't you  _ ever _ fuckin’ lie to me. Got it?”

He hesitated before nodding glumly.

“Now get in the fuckin’ bedroom and wait for me. If you ain't never had angry sex before, you're about to have it now.”

Lucas fled.

 

It was disconcerting that she'd already forgiven the murder attempt but not the dishonesty. Just the way she was wired, she guessed.

She made Lucas wait. Splashed some of that green chemical-herby shit over her knuckles. It made her skin tingle, but seemed to find its way into her veins too, the sensation like restrained electricity permeating her body. She watched as the redness faded from her joints, tiny splits knitting together as if she was seeing the process via time-lapse photography. Energised, she screwed the lid back on the bottle and stomped into the bedroom.

 

Ellen had expected him to be on the bed, but his shirt lay there instead. Lucas himself was lurking behind the door.   
He grabbed her from behind as she burst in, his arm an immovable bar across her belly, his hand over her mouth.   
She flailed as her feet left the floor, kicking out. He chuckled in her ear.   
“Didn't think I was gonna make it easy, did you?”   
She threw back her head, hearing a satisfying grunt as it smashed into his face, biting down on his hand as she did so. Skin separated under her teeth, blood leaping onto her tongue.   
He tried to shake his hand free, but she held on like a terrier, feeling bone grate as she ground her jaw.   
He dropped her.   
She landed on her feet, staggering but turning on him instantly. One of his lips was split where she'd hit him with her head and blood ran down his chin, but it didn't stop her from swinging her hand in a short arc, slapping his face with a noise that sounded like a whip crack.   
A livid palm print sprang up on his pale face.   
He snarled, reaching out for her, but she launched herself at him, clawed hands raking at his bare chest, drawing thin red lines under her nails.   
He grabbed a wrist, hoisting her into the air, whirling her round and slamming her against the wall with a bone jarring crunch.   
Dazed, she hung suspended from one arm as his free hand groped under the hem of her dress, two fingers stabbing between her thrashing legs and into the hot, wet cave of her cunt, right up to his knuckles.   
Pinned there by her sex, his thumb found her clit and began to work her savagely. She moaned, a high keening sound, his fingers twitching inside her with a come-hither gesture that found some unspeakable spot of pleasure, reducing her to a twitching frenzy.   
“You like that?”   
His face was close to hers, his blood-tinged breath scalding her skin. She nodded speechlessly. She'd taught him too well.   
He laughed, fingers and thumb still working, merciless, his teeth closing on her neck.   
She pumped her hips, pussy juice squirting onto his hand and running down his wrist, but even as she reveled in the violent ecstasy her unpinned hand was reaching for his face, her thumb seeking his eye.   
He gave a squawk as she dug into the soft jelly, his fingers ripping out of her, filling her with a combined sense of loss and triumph.   
Using the wall for leverage, she lifted a leg and pumped it outwards, kicking his stomach. He released her and she slid down the wall, heels hitting the ground.   
She bent her knees, keeping her weight low, charging him with her shoulder.   
It caught him in his middle, folding him around her, forcing him backwards. He toppled like a young tree, his arms wrapping around her as he fell to take her with him.   
His head knocked the concrete floor, stunning him for a millisecond, but it was enough time for her to scramble on top of him, her legs astride his chest.   
His face twisted in consternation as he realised what she was doing, but he was too late to stop her. Scrabbling up his body like a spider, her knees hit his shoulders, her crotch slamming onto his face.   
He gulped for air as she smooshed her slippery pussy over his mouth, her hands going between her legs to clutch at the short hairs on the top of his head. Her clit grated against the hard bone on the bridge of his nose.   
“Lick it, bitch!” she crowed.   
She rocked her hips back and forth, round and round, smearing her juices over his chin, nose and cheeks. His tongue crawled ìnto her, lapping it all up, squirming inside her like a panicked snake.   
His hands rose from either side, grasping her hips, his fingers clamping cruelly into her flesh, but when she gasped and tried to pull away he held her fast, forcing her more firmly against his face.   
She felt his mouth open wider, gaping, grunting like a pig snuffling for truffles. She squealed.   
He lifted his head, raising her entire weight on his neck muscles, driving her backwards till she toppled, her back hitting the mattress.   
Her legs waved in mid air, unable to find purchase, his face pinioning her pelvis to the bed as he sucked at her cunt unrelentingly.   
She screamed, the familiar warmth of an orgasm starting to build, clenching her pussy muscles around his tongue.   
Cruelly, he pulled his face away, his grin satanic, her cuntslime smeared all over his face.   
“Bastard!”   
She aimed a kick at his jaw but he snatched her ankle out of midair.   
Bent on escape, she dug her other heel into the bed, meaning to push herself away, but he collared that ankle too, hauling her legs so high and wide apart she thought she split in two.   
At some point in the proceedings he'd undone his jeans, and she watched helplessly as his stiff cock reared up between her legs.   
Pausing only to drop a heartless wink, he entered her with a brutal shove that drove her backwards on the bed, the top of her head hitting the wall.   
Impaled on him, she went limp as he began to pound her, each thrust stunning her. Her mouth hung open as his strokes took on the familiar rhythm of a hard and nasty fucking. Unable to help herself, she reached between her legs, fingers at her greedy clit.   
“Oh no you don't!”   
His hands left her ankles and he pulled out of her, snagging her wrists, pulling them away either side.   
His weight was on her, pushing her into the mattress, his face hovering over hers.   
His breath smelled of pussy.   
She reared up, her teeth fastening onto his lower lip, reopening the cut she'd made. His blood dribbled into her mouth.   
She wrapped her legs around his waist, thighs closing on him.   
She headbutted him in the nose, fresh blood bursting out and splashing her face.   
He tried to pull away, but her legs held him too tightly and he only pulled her with him. She threw her weight forward, lunging at him, her splayed thighs opening her sweetly, her pussy finding its target and enveloping his cock.   
He ground his teeth, falling back onto his haunches as she let her weight pierce her, his dick hitting her cervix.   
Her legs unfolded, feet hitting the floor, muscles flexing as she rode him at a gallop, driving him further backwards.   
“Shit!”   
He wrapped his arms round her waist, his face showing his dismay.   
She'd won.   
He'd reached the point where coming was more important than coming out on top.   
His thumb bruised her clit, and gratefully she hugged onto him, fucking him into submission. She licked the blood from his face.   
“Shit….” he moaned again, quieter, lifting his hips to meet her.   
Victory assured, she could relent. She let him kiss her mouth, her neck. Kissed him back. She clutched the straining muscles on his back, her breath huffing against his shoulder.   
“Goddam,” he muttered in a shaky voice. “God-fuckin’-damn.”   
Her internal muscles fluttered, orgasm building relentlessly. It was going to be vicious. His prick stabbed her, his thumb carried her onwards and upwards. She growled into his skin, shuddering, as her cunt clenched around him, feeling the pulse of his cock as he emptied his balls in her.   
“Hnnnh…...Holy fucking shit…..aaahh……. _ fuck _ , I love you!”   
Her eyes snapped open. The word. The dangerous word was out in the open. But she hadn't been the one to say it.

 

When she'd been a child, she'd had a toy, an inflatable, pear-shaped man nearly as tall as her. There had been some sort of weight at the bottom, so no matter how hard she hit him, he'd roll back upright.

Lucas was her adult version of that toy.

They clung together in the sweaty afterglow. Lucas had picked her up bodily and fallen onto the bed with her, dick still buried between her legs. As she watched, the marks she'd made on him faded, the split lip healing, the blood drying up. A tiny scar remained drawn on his lip, thin as a strand of cobweb, and in the time it took her to kiss it, it disappeared.

“Is it the infection, that makes you heal so quick?” she asked.

“Uh-huh.” He brushed a strand of hair from her damp face. “I'm like Wolverine. Can be as rough with me as you want and won't never do me no lastin’ harm.”

“Thank you for goin’ easy on me. I know you didn't have to.”

“Thought you might need to get it out yer system. And for the record, I didn't hold back much. Yer a fuckin’ wildcat!”

He sighed.

“Anyways, much as I hate it, I’m gonna have to love you and leave you. I gotta take that machete and cut a path through the bushes by the main entrance. An’ open a hole in the fence down there. Make sure Ethan goes the right way when he arrives.”

Reluctantly he pulled out of her and stood up. Ellen rolled over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. Her pussy was sore and puffy from the battering it had received, but she felt cleansed, somehow. All her anger was gone, leaving a serenity and contentment in its wake.

Lucas did up his jeans, pulled on his shirt.

“I really am sorry,” he told her. “I don't know what came over me. Just felt - I dunno,  _ hopeless _ for a while. I'll make it up to ya.”

She smiled.

“You already have….you animal!”

Grinning, Lucas left the room. She saw him pass the doorway minutes later, carrying bolt cutters and the machete.

“I won't be more’n a coupla hours,” he said as he stuffed items into his backpack. “See ya later.”

She heard the beep of the keypad, the clunk of the door opening. Just before it closed, he called out to her, sounding hesitant and uncertain. He used that word again, the one she'd so carefully repressed. But now it was out in the open and he'd said it first - and second - she felt safe in letting it out, throwing it to him as a parting gift.

“I love you too, Lucas,” she replied.

 

When he returned, Lucas was drenched with sweat, his white t-shirt almost transparent. There was green chlorophyll under his nails and rust stains grimed into the creases of his hands.

“Holy shit! It's hotter ‘n’ two rats fuckin’ in a wool sock out there.” He tossed down his backpack. “Got that done, though. Baby, I gotta take a shower. I'm sweatin’ like a whore in church.”

Ellen watched him go into the bathroom, heard water running. Bored, she wandered in to join him. She still wasn't used to seeing him naked - the novelty hadn't worn off. She leaned against the sink and watched as he stood in the bathtub under the stuttering spray of the old shower head, rubbing shampoo vigorously into bristles of his hair. Suds ran down his chest, over his belly, collected in his pubes. She'd seen his dick often enough, but it occurred to her that she'd never seen it limp - he always sported at least a semi-hardon. She wondered if that was a side effect of the infection too, the reason he was able to fuck so often. Distracted, she watched the water stream down him, trickling over his muscular little ass and his long, lean thighs.

“Looks like we're gonna haveta get proceedin’s movin’ soon, babycakes,” said Lucas, jolting her attention from the way the spray peppered the flexing muscles of his abdomen. “Looks like Daddy’s stepped up his crazy a notch. He's built a fuckin’ hangin’ sculpture in the swamp, made out o’ cow legs ‘n’ saw blades.”

“That's fucked up. He think he's Damien Hirst?” she said absently, observing him as he picked up the sliver of soap on the edge of the tub and began to scrub himself with it. The soap glided over his chest, smearing the shiny scars written on him. Every time she saw the word sketched into the skin between his nipples, it gave her an almost physical feeling in her own chest, a sharp stab of emotion she could never quite isolate. It marred him, but at the same time made him seem more vulnerable, softer despite his hard angles and resilience.

He was beautiful, in his way - to her, at least, though she doubted he viewed himself in the same fashion. She'd come to appreciate his appearance - the hooked nose, the intensity of his blue eyes, the sharp angles of his face…..If she ever got the chance, she would love to feed him up. Proper meals that would put some meat on his meagre frame, fill out the almost concave belly, soften the hard edges of his hip bones. He'd been surviving on crap for too long.

Ellen sighed. All this romantic bullshit was making her feel like a 12 year old girl fawning over her favourite band, but she knew how to fix that. Her pussy still throbbed but there was no denying she was ready for round two, and they hadn't done it in the shower before. If time was catching up on them, as Lucas said, she didn't know how many chances they'd have to enjoy each other in the coming days, so she'd take her opportunities where she could.

“Whatya lookin’ at?” asked Lucas suspiciously, finally noticing her attention. He'd been soaping his groin but stopped self-consciously.

She smiled.

“Just admirin’ my man. You need any help with that?” She nodded towards the bar of soap hovering near his crotch. He grinned.

“Hell yeah!”

As she took off her dress, she saw his dick begin to rise, going from semi- to fully-hard as if tugged upwards on a marionette string. It was comforting to know that that the novelty of her own nudity hadn't worn off for him, either. She climbed into the tub and took the soap from him.

 

It must have been a couple of days later. Ellen and Zoe were chatting as they put the finishing touches to the “cake” they'd made - a huge confection that housed an explosive created by Lucas. They hid the cracks with frosting that looked delicious even though it was made mostly of paint, and Ellen had to continuously remind herself not to lick her fingers when she got it on her.

It was difficult talking of innocent things whilst they worked at the table Lucas had fucked her on only an hour previously.

Lucas had been working tirelessly for the past couple of days. The cameras were in place, his schedule written up, supplies stashed in the buildings and around the grounds. When he wasn't working he was fucking her with a desperation and intensity she couldn't keep pace with. They'd done it on every item of furniture, in every room - even risking a brief foray into the barn at one point to fuck on the spot where Lonny had been shredded. Even as she worked with Zoe, her pussy burned, chafed raw by Lucas’s constantly driving cock. He'd given her a bottle of the green meds to splash over it, but she'd put it aside. Part of her liked the feeling of the soreness, a constant reminder of his warped but genuine affection.

Lucas stomped into the room. He hadn't slept in she didn't know how long, his eyes red-rimmed and sunken. She'd nagged him about it, but he claimed he didn't need much sleep due to the infection, though she had her doubts. Mostly, he said, he slept because he liked it.

He was wearing what she'd come to think of as his disguise - the dull green LCS hoodie and filthy beige pants. He hated them against his skin but it was all a necessary part of the deception.

“I think it's time,” he announced, dumping his backpack on the floor by the door, coming over to examine the fake cake. He let her know they'd done a good job with his brief nod of approval and the more personal fleeting caress he bestowed on the back of her neck under her hair.

“Already? I thought we'd have more time…..” Zoe looked apprehensive.

“No point in waitin’. I been workin’ on Eveline. She thinks it's her idea ta send for ‘im. Only cuz I put it in her head, though.”

“That's real smart, baby,” said Ellen and was rewarded with a private smile, his eyes flicking warningly towards Zoe. She knew what such praise did to his libido. She was gonna get fucked the second Zoe left.

Lucas dragged out his battered laptop, drumming his fingers impatiently as it booted up.

“Once I send this, we jest have to wait,” he said. “But when he gets here, things’ll move real fast. You best rest up, Zoe. Make the most of it. I've done the best I can to set everythin’ up and prepare for any deviations, but who knows how this’ll end?”

He looked at his sister grimly.

“I love ya, Zoe. Don't you forget that. No matter what I say or what happens.”

“I know, Lucas. I love you too.” Zoe reached across the table and squeezed her brother's hand briefly.

Lucas nodded, sat down, and began to compose the email.


	9. The Man Comes Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan arrives and Lucas’s left arm departs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ethan is clearly being controlled by a first-time player.
> 
> There are feelings too.

“He's here.”

Ellen had been dozing on the couch with Lucas, the pair of them making the most of the peace as Zoe kept watch on the monitors. At Zoe’s words, coming softly from the doorway of what they'd dubbed the Control Room, Lucas snapped awake as if he'd been playing possum the entire time, though he'd been snoring softly in her ear only moments before.

“‘scuse me, baby.”

He untangled his limbs from hers gently but swiftly, filling her with a sense of emptiness as he departed. Forcing herself into action, she stood and followed him to the control room.

Zoe was pointing to one of the screens on which an off-white car drove up a dirt track and stopped in a clearing.

A blond man wearing a white shirt climbed out. Lucas zoomed the camera in.

“That's him?” asked Zoe.

“Looks like it.”

Zoe gave a low whistle of appreciation.

“He's  _ hot _ .”

Lucas made a face. Zoe leaned closer to the monitor.

“ _ Dayum. _ Not bad at all. Don't you think, Ellen?”

Ellen shrugged. She could see Lucas’s face reflected in one of the monitors and his expression was unreadable.

“He's ok if you like that kind o’ thing,” she said. “Me, I prefer my men a little rougher round the edges.”

She nudged her hip against Lucas’s shoulder, seeing his teeth show briefly in the monitor as he smiled.

Lucas elbowed Zoe away from the screen.

“Put yer tongue away, Zoe. Yer foggin’ up the screen with yer pantin’. Anyways, he's come here to get his  _ wife _ , remember?”

“So? Just because you're on a diet, don't mean you can't look at the menu,” Zoe retorted, but she moved back. “He dresses nice, too.”

“Yeah, he's all gussied up. Gonna ruin his nice shoes, though,” snickered Lucas.

They watched as he took stock of his surroundings before setting off down the pathway Lucas had cleared.

“Well, we're off. Guess this is it.” Lucas leaned his elbows on the desk, propping his chin on his hands. “Let's hope Ethan here don't let us down.”

Onscreen, Ethan approached the tall front gates, peering through the bars at the house. He lingered for a long time, and Lucas began to fidget.

“What's he doin’?” said Ellen.

“I dunno. Just standin’ there…..  _ Get yer thumb out yer ass, Ethan! C’mon, man, you got a wife to rescue! _ ” Lucas drummed on the desk impatiently. “Look at this asshole! Yeah, that's right, Ethan. Try the chained gates.”

He shook his head.

“Oh - he's pressin’ the intercom button! Like that's gonna work. Go on now, press it a couple more times. Yeah. Didn't work the first time, might work the third or fourth….. An’ now he's tryin’ the gates again!  _ Can't you see the chain, dumbass? _ Shit. Dumb sonofabitch couldn't pour piss out o’ a boot with the instructions written on the heel!”

Lucas threw up his hands in despair.

“You sure this man is everythin’ you say he is?” asked Zoe. “He don't seem too bright….”

“Trust me, sis - I know he don't look like he could find his ass with both hands in his back pockets, but he ain't all he seems.  _ Turn around, man! There's a fuckin’ path right behind you! See where it goes! _ ”

Onscreen, Ethan finally turned round and appeared to observe the pathway.

“There you go! Bless your heart, Ethan, you're slower than a Sunday afternoon….”

Lucas produced a can of energy drink from under the desk, popping it open and sighing as he watched the man begin to walk down the path.

“And we're off, like a herd o’ turtles…... _ No, Ethan! Don't stop to look at the fuckin’ van! That's as much use as tits on a bull! Go through the fence! _ Fuck! There's tree stumps in the swamp with a higher IQ……”

Ellen put her hand over her mouth, hiding her grin. As much as she hated to admit it, seeing Lucas pitch a hissy fit was one of the funniest things she'd seen.

He glowered at her balefully.

“It ain't funny! Man's meant ta be a highly trained professional, an’ he's actin’ like he don't know whether to check his ass or scratch his watch!  _ Go on, Ethan! You already looked in the van twice, ain't nothin’ new suddenly appeared! Why don't you check out the hole in the fence?  _ Took me a fuckin’ lifetime to cut that hole.  _ It ain't rocket science! Either shit or get off the pot! _ ”

“Lucas, yer cracker’s showin’,” giggled Zoe.

“I ain't bein’ unreasonable, Zoe! The amount o’ time I took settin’ up the scene for him, you'd think he'd fuckin’ follow the path! Man’s a fry short o’ a Happy Meal. It's fuckin’ obvious!”

“You gotta remember, honey - we all know what he's gotta do, but he don't,” interjected Ellen. “Give ‘im time, baby. Not everyone’s smart as you.”

“I know, but  _ fuck _ . This is harder to watch than herdin’ cats. I don't know how much more I can take…..”

Zoe patted her brother on the shoulder.

“Don't watch it, then. I'll keep an eye on ‘im for now. Let ya know if anythin’ happens.”

Lucas got to his feet.

“Ok. But don't go gettin’ all distracted by his pretty face an’ nice, soft hands….” He glanced at the screen one more time, his face twisting in disgust as Ethan examined the hole in the fence and the sign next to it carefully. “That was me, I'd be there already.”

 

Ellen followed him from the room, feeling like a puppy unwilling to be apart from its owner.

Lucas flung himself onto the couch, scrubbing wearily at his face with both hands.

“Don't get disheartened, baby,” she said. “Like I said, can't expect everyone to be smart as you.”

He sighed.

“It's just so fuckin’ hard ta watch! He's got so much ridin’ on ‘im, an’ he don't even know it…..He has our lives in his dainty fuckin’ hands and he's wanderin’ around lookin’ at shit that don't even matter.” Lucas stretched his arms out. “C’mon over here baby. I’m in need o’ a little comfort.”

Ellen held back.

“Your sister's in the next room,” she reminded him.

“I know that! Have a little faith in me, woman! Dang. Ain't everythin’ about sex y’know.”

“Really?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow, and he grinned.

“I promise. I'll be a good boy.” He patted his knee. “Now get on over here. Pretty please. With fuckin’ sugar on top.”

Relenting, Ellen sat on his lap, and Lucas snuggled up to her with a contented sigh.

How things had changed, she reflected. When she'd first come here she'd been terrified, expecting him to kill her at any moment, and the only time he'd touched her was to stick his dick in her. And now here she was, sat on his knee like he was a department store Santa, the hands that had crafted blood chilling torture devices stroking her hair.

“If we could jest walk outta here right now an’ have a normal life, what would you want, Lucas?” she asked.

“Bigger bed would be nice,” he pondered. “Decent fuckin’ food. A dog, maybe.”

“A dog?”

“Yeah. Why ya sound so surprised? I like dogs. They don't give a shit what sorta person you are, long as you treat ‘em right.”

She laughed.

“Kinda sounds like me.”

“I guess. You ain't no dog, though, that's fer sure.” He squeezed her knee. 

“I ain't nothin’ special...”

“You're so fuckin’ wrong it's hilarious,” countered Lucas. “You don't even know it, do you? How many times did guys come on to you when you worked at the bar?”

“Oh, plenty of times! But that don't mean nothin’. That's what guys do in bars. Any pair o ’ tits is fair game.”

Lucas frowned at her.

“That ain't the reason! You're so beautiful you'd give the pope a hard on. It's the reason I kidnapped you in the first place. Saw you servin’ beers to those assholes with a smile on yer face……” He shook his head. “When you called on me in the cells that first day, I near ‘bout came on the spot. I couldn't fuckin’ look at you! Made me feel like a little kid. Tried to make you feel like shit cuz I couldn't stand how horny you got me.”

He sighed.

“When we tried to fuck that first time, I came in yer hand cuz I was so goddam excited, Ellen! All this time and you never even realised it. Don't they have mirrors where you come from? I ain't never met someone as beautiful as you. An’ the fact that you're so sweet to me….Well, I know I don't fuckin’ deserve you.”

She stared at him in confusion.

“Beauty's in the eye o’ the beholder, I guess….” she faltered.

“Shut the fuck up right now, Ellen, cuz yer makin’ me mad! I ain't never figured you was so dumb.”

“Zack always said - “

“Zack was a retarded fuckin’ asshole. If that dumbass weren't already dead I'd kill ‘im maself. No, Ellen, that bastard jest wanted to hurt you. He was wrong. An’ you can take my word for that, cuz didn't I promise never to lie to you again?”

She nodded dumbly. Lucas patted her hip.

“I don't wanna hear no more o’ that nonsense,” he said, his voice gentler. “It's about time you knew what you were worth. Ain't jest any woman could walk in here an’ handle me like you did. We get outta here in one piece, I promise you, I'm gonna do my best to give you the life you always shoulda had.”

Zoe walked into the room.

“As touchin’ as this is,” she said, “I thought you should know that Ethan’s nearly found Mia….”

 

“Finally! Some progress.” Lucas was back in the chair, grabbing the forgotten can of energy drink and slurping some down. “How did he manage the flooded basement?”

Zoe sniggered.

“He damn near shit ‘isself when he found what was left o’ Andre,” she told them.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Poor dead bastard came bobbin’ up to the surface just as Ethan was nearly out. He was all like ‘Aargh!’” She held her hands up in front of her face.

“Shit! Wish I'd seen that….”

“Had a bad moment when I caught sight o’ Daddy in the swamp, though.”

“He was in the swamp? What the fuck was he doin’?”

Zoe shrugged.

“Checkin’ on his fuckin’ artwork, I guess. He didn't see Ethan, though.”

“That crazy old bastard fucks up my plans, I'll kill him myself!”

Lucas crushed the can in his fist and tossed it on the floor.

“Ok, here we are. Looky, looky, Ethan. Ain't that your wife there?”

Lucas’s hands tightened on the desk as Ethan painstakingly tried the locked gate a couple of times.

“Don't fuckin’ start this again, Ethan….” muttered Lucas through gritted teeth.

He sighed in relief as Ethan wandered off to find something to help, but buried his face in his hands when Ethan picked up a scrap of paper and squinted at it in the poor light, turning it over and over, his lips moving as he read it carefully.

“That's it, Ethan,” moaned Lucas wearily. “Ignore the Oh-so-conveniently placed bolt cutters on the workbench right next ta ya and look at the niiice piece o’ paper….”

“Easily distracted, ain't he?” remarked Ellen. “Hope there ain't too many notes around the house if he's gonna read ‘em all.”

They watched as he finally set down the note and picked up the bolt cutters.

“Now, this bit I weren't able ta plan for,” said Lucas worriedly. “She's been real unpredictable  lately, what with Eveline messin’ with her head, ‘n’ she might turn on ‘im at some point. Hope she don't fuckin’ kill ‘im…..”

Onscreen, Ethan leaned over his wife. Ellen frowned.

“You say he thinks she's been dead for 3 years?”

“Uh-huh. Why?”

“Why ain't he huggin’ her or somethin’? You'd think he'd be fuckin’ overjoyed to find her!”

Lucas scratched his head.

“Yeah, that's pretty fucked up.”

Mia stumbled through damp corridors, her husband following. Her behaviour and speech patterns seemed to become more and more erratic. Lucas was looking more and more worried.

“Eveline’s got her. She's bumpin’ around in there, I can tell. Don't know what that crazy little bitch will do. Said she wanted Ethan to be her daddy, but Eveline ain't exactly what you would call stable.”

Minutes later Lucas’s fears were realised. Ellen watched in horror as the woman threw herself at her husband, screeching. Lucas slapped the desk.

“Where did she get the fuckin’ knife? Looked like she pulled it outta her ass! Fuck! Mia, you crazy bitch, you're gonna ruin everything…..”

“Do something, Lucas!” urged Zoe.

“Like what, Zoe? What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“He don't wanna hurt her…..” Ellen clutched at Lucas’s shoulder. “She's gonna kill ‘im.”

“No.” Lucas shook his head. “Uh-uh. His instincts’ll kick in, he'll fight her off. He  _ has  _ to.  _ Come on, Ethan! Knock her the fuck out!” _

Ellen left the room, unable to watch. All the planning, all the preparation, and it could end here with Mia killing Ethan before they'd even properly started.

Ellen paced, listening to Zoe and Lucas shout at the unhearing man as though they were watching a boxing match on tv. For a second, all she wanted to do was go in in there and rip all the wires out, smash the monitors, not give a fuck about the blond man with his nice clothes and crazy wife. Her life had been turned upside down when Lucas had kidnapped her, but she had gotten used to her new way of life so easily it was frightening. She'd had no responsibilities, no job to go to or rent to pay, no bosses to blow or drunks to humour or groceries to buy…..her life had become so simple, reduced to basic necessities.  Fuck the guy. Read the books. Watch the movies. Eat the food. Fuck the guy some more. And now it looked like even that simple existence would be snatched from her…..

She sat on the couch, wringing her hands. She didn't want much from life at this point. Just Lucas and a roof over her head, food to eat. They could just leave if it weren't for Zoe and the fucking mold that inhabited her body.

Ellen was a compassionate person, and she knew Lucas cared about his sister, but honestly, at that moment, she wished Zoe were fucking dead.

She took deep breaths, sat with her head lowered. She felt ashamed of her own thoughts. She liked Zoe - they'd formed a kind of friendship in the short time they'd known each other - but her infection was the reason this was happening, and she was endangering them all.

Ellen wiped at her eyes fiercely. There were weakass fucking tears stinging them and she didn't have time for self-pity.

_ “Things change, baby girl,”  _ whispered Aunt Ruby.  _ “Life’s all about change, you just gotta roll with the punches and move on. You been through tougher times than this piddlin’ bullshit!” _

Ellen got her feet and walked back to the control room. Lucas and Zoe had gone silent and were staring at the monitors with stunned expressions.

“What's wrong? What's happened?”

“He stuck an axe in her neck,” said Zoe. “An’ now he's lookin’ in drawers…..”

“He killed her?”

“She ain't dead,” said Lucas. “That won't kill ‘er. But he don't know that. Fuckin’ look at him. I can't tell if he's the most coldhearted sonofabitch I ever saw or the biggest dumbass.”

Lucas shook his head.

“You better make first contact, Zoe. Mia’ll be up an’ about soon enough, an’ he needs to get movin’. Get ‘im up to the attic, I left a gun up there.”

Zoe nodded and picked up the receiver. On screen, Ethan cocked his head at the sound of the phone ringing in the hall.

Lucas looked up at Ellen with some concern.

“You ok there baby? You look all outta sorts.”

She managed a weak smile.

“Jest worried, I guess. I'm ok now.”

He nodded and turned towards Zoe.

“You really shouldn't have come here……” she was saying. “My name's Zoe. There should be a way out through the attic. Go there - Now.”

She hung up.

“Way to build a connection, Zoe. Strike up a fuckin’ rapport.”

“I didn't want to sidetrack him too much! Man's easily distracted.”

She shrugged. Lucas looked back at the monitor.

“Holy shit, Mia’s gone!” Lucas frantically searched the other monitors, switching cameras. “It's like the bitch can fuckin’ teleport.”

“Uh-oh. There she is, Lucas,” said Zoe. “She's got the fuckin’ chainsaw.”

 

Ellen sat numbly on the couch as Zoe and Lucas charged around their cramped quarters. Lucas was tossing things into a backpack - a staple gun, the green healing juice, some sort of weird looking watch. Zoe hovered in the doorway impatiently. About to leave, Lucas hesitated, then dropped the backpack and dashed into the laundry room.

“Lucas, come on!” Zoe urged.

“Hold your fuckin’ horses, Zoe!” snapped Lucas, reappearing next to Ellen, a bundle in his arms that he dropped onto the couch next to her.

She stared, uncomprehending, at the heap. Her jeans and blouse. Her old tennis shoes. Her battered purse. Even her bra and panties. To this, Lucas added the handgun she'd been practicing with and a stack of ammo boxes.

He crouched in front of her, grabbing her hands, speaking rapidly.

“Listen to me, Ellen. If anythin’ happens to me - “

She gasped, swallowing a sob.

“No, no, shhh, nothin’ will. But if it  _ does _ …. The code fer the door is 1019. Here's the two spare keycards you'll need for the main door.” He fumbled them from the depths of his hoody, thrusting them into her trembling hands. “And here…..”

Crumpled bills tumbled onto her lap, too many for her to count - tens, twenties. She spotted a couple of fifties. Some of them had bloodstains on them.

“Lucas, I'm scared….” she admitted.

“Ain't no need to be, I'll be fine. This is just in case, ok?”

He took her face in her hands, staring into her eyes.

She gave him a weak smile, wanting to be brave for him.

“Ok. Please be careful.”

He nodded, kissing her soundly before standing, snagging the strap of the backpack.

“I'll be back ‘fore you know it.”

 

After they'd gone, Ellen sat on the couch staring at the keycards and money on her lap. Slowly, she gathered up the bills, smoothing out the creases, stacking them tidily. She felt detached, as though watching herself from outside as she stuffed the money and the keycards into her purse.

She found her cellphone, the battery long dead, and thought about her parents. They must have heard about her disappearance by now, surely? She hadn't made much of an impact on the world but there were two people out there who cared about what happened to her.

At a loss, she wandered into the control room, wondering if Lucas had a charger to fit her phone. There were things happening on two of the screens but she was scared to look at them.

Lucas’s phone was on one of the desks, plugged into a charger. She unplugged it, saw the charger would fit her own phone, plugged it in.

She examined Lucas’s phone. It was battered, the screen scratched. Zoe had told her he always used the same password, and she thumbed the button on the side.

_ “Careful now,”  _ warned Aunt Ruby.  _ “You don't know what you're gonna find on there. It might upset you.” _

“I'll take that chance,” muttered Ellen, typing in the code.

His phone was open to her now. She stared at it, wondering what she was looking for. What was she hoping to discover? Some secret porn, maybe? Three year old texts to a long-gone girlfriend?

She looked at his texts. They were old and there weren't many, and all of them were from unsaved numbers.

_ Loser! _

_ Fuckin freeek _

_ Kys _

_ Fuk off n die swamp boy _

_ Ugly mutherfukker _

Ellen’s grip on the phone tightened grimly. She closed his texts, hoping that at least two of them had been from Becky and Janine. The  _ Loser! _ one had most likely been Oliver. If they got out of here alive, she promised herself they were gonna pay that fucker a visit.

Idly, she opened his photos. She honestly expected nothing more than some downloaded porn stills, but what she found surprised her.

Photos of her. Pre-kidnap, from the days when she'd been a woman named Zoe and hadn't known he existed. There were dozens of them.

Her at the bar. Her grocery shopping. Her opening the door to her apartment. Her sitting in traffic. Even a couple of shots of her through a gap in her curtains.

How long had he been watching her, planning?

She couldn't be angry. Ok, he'd been stalking her and she should be creeped out….but he'd used filters on a lot of them, no matter how blurry or hurried. Given her the most flattering finish possible, cropped out bystanders, and on a couple there were even frames made of hearts, like he was a teenage girl on Instagram. It was fucked up, but….

Sweet. That was it. Fucked up and sweet. If there was a better phrase to describe Lucas, she didn't know what it was.

She thought she'd been randomly picked, just some nobody who wouldn't be missed, who wouldn't spark a huge police search. But he'd been watching her for months.

She set his phone down. She didn't know how to feel.

Ellen glanced at the monitors. There was nothing on any of them. She flicked between the cameras.

Lucas was sitting at a table in a room lit by dribbling candles. The table was heaped with….stuff. It looked like offal. She saw Marguerite, and Ethan strapped to a chair, his hand stapled on clumsily. There was another man she didn't recognise, but could only assume was Lucas’s father, a huge bear of a man with a beard. And an old woman in a wheelchair who no one acknowledged.

It looked like a reality tv show based on the family from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Lucas’s hood was up and he looked shifty as fuck. She couldn't help smiling. He was tormenting Ethan, tossing bits of guts from the table at him. Ellen couldn't tell if it was payback for the frustration he'd caused in the control room or merely an attempt to bring the man round.

Ellen flinched at the sound of the main door opening.

“Ellen? You here?” Zoe’s voice drifted through to her.

“In the control room,” called Ellen.

Zoe walked in, looking at her curiously.

“I thought you woulda left…..” she said.

“You're as bad as your brother,” said Ellen. “I ain't goin’ nowhere ‘less I got no choice.”

“Guess not. I gotta tell ya, though - I was you, I'd be gone.”

“Well. You ain't me.”

Zoe turned her attention to the monitors. She grimaced at the sight of the laden table.

“Wonder what poor bastards died for supper this time,” she mused. “Aw, Lucas - leave ‘im alone!”

Lucas launched his plate at Ethan’s face.

“One way to get outta eatin’ it, I guess,” said Ellen doubtfully. “Lucas knows what.....”

She trailed off in horror.

Zoe’s hand was on her shoulder, the woman talking to her in a rapid, low voice, words Ellen barely heard.

“Ellen, it's ok, it ain't as bad as it looks, Lucas is ok, I swear…..”

“His arm!” she wailed. “He cut off his fuckin’ arm like it weren't nothin’!”

Ellen picked up the phone, checked the numbers on the chart Lucas had written up. Zoe snatched it off her.

“Calm down, he's fine!”

“No he ain't! We gotta do somethin’, Zoe!”

The two women grappled with the receiver. Zoe was strong but Ellen was determined. She wrenched it from Zoe’s grasp, staggering as Zoe finally let go.

“Look!” she said helplessly, pointing at the screen. “Look at what your daddy's doin’!”

Zoe watched the violence unfolding, Jack sending Marguerite running from the room and picking up the knife. She went pale as her father hunched over Ethan in his chair, the knife sliding between the helpless man's lips and cutting into the tender flesh of his mouth.

“Go on, then. Make the call!”

 

Lucas barreled into the room, his hoodie soaked in blood. Ellen rushed towards him, her first instinct to fling herself on his neck, but the sight of his injury in real life brought her up short. The colours were brighter than they had been onscreen, the meat of his elbow more ragged and wet.

“Jesus H Christ, Lucas! Are you ok?”

He glanced down at the stump.

“Aw, don't worry ‘bout that. It's worse than it looks.”

“Worse than it……? Lucas, your fucking arm has gone!”

He shrugged.

“It’ll grow back.”

Talking slowly, as if speaking to a child, she said:

“Lucas. Arms don't work like that.”

“Mine does. It's the infection. Don't just work for cuts ‘n’ bruises. Wait a few hours, you'll see.”

“But…..why? Why'd he do that?”

“The old man got pissed.” He shrugged again. “It's happened before.”

His father had done this before? Remembering the stacked rings of scar tissue on his arms, it made sense, but Lucas’s blasé attitude, the way he acted as though this was a mere irritation, was hard for her to grasp.

“Don't it hurt?” she asked timidly.

“Meh - not as much as you'd think.”

She regarded the gory stump squeamishly.

“Can't you….put a towel round it or somethin’?” she shuddered. “I don't like lookin’ at it.”

He sighed, her finicky nature apparently as irritating as having his arm cut off.

“If it'll stop your complainin’ - ok.” He looked sideways at her, his expression distinctly grumpy. “Y’know, if it offends yer delicate nature.”

Ellen thought she detected wounded feelings amidst the churlishness.

“Aw, baby, it's not that,” she lied. “I just don't like to see you hurt.”

He snorted, but left the room only to reappear moments later with the offending limb wrapped in a towel. He waved it in her direction.

“Happy now?” he grumbled.

“Well, I ain't exactly happy, but that's better. You sure it don't hurt?”

“Naw. Itches mostly. Feels like I just wanna get ma fingers right in there and give it a real good fuckin’ scratch.”

“Ew! Don't do that!”

He laughed at her disgusted expression, his good humour returned.

“Was it your idea ta make that phone call? That was good thinkin’, Ellen. Was real gettin’ real fuckin’ intense in there. Just the distraction we needed.”

Ellen blushed.

“I weren't thinkin’ o’ that,” she admitted. “I jest panicked when I saw what happened to ya.”

“Aw, that's ok baby. It all worked out in the end. An’ I'm fine. I promise.”

Zoe appeared in the doorway of the control room.

“Hate to break up your chitchat, but thought you should know - Ethan’s already given Daddy the slip ‘n’ has gotten into the safe room.”

“Already? Looks like he's finally gotten his thumb out his ass an’ got movin’. That's more like it!”

“I ain't altogether sure about that. Daddy was chasin’ him, an’ he stopped to look at the photos in the hallway!”

“Fer fucks sake! Man’s simple minded. Well, don't just stand there, Zoe - call ‘im!”

Impatient, Lucas used his remaining hand to shove Zoe back into the control room.

“Hurry up, ’fore he fuckin’ leaves!”

“What do I say?”

“Tell ‘im about the door in the main hall! Quickly, now. Look, he's leavin!”

Panicking, Zoe grabbed the phone receiver, hit the number 2. On the monitor, Ethan paused halfway out through the door to the laundry room. He hesitated, then carefully closed the door and walked over to the phone.

“You did good, Ethan…...Shut up and listen if you wanna stay alive. You gotta get out of that house. There might be a way out through the main hall.”

_ “The codex….”  _ hissed Lucas, nudging her with his stump.

Zoe curled her lip in distaste, shying away from the amputated limb.

“Oh - and that thing on your wrist is a codex. Don't lose it. It's important.”

She hung up.

“Don't touch me with that thing, Lucas, it's fuckin’ gross.”

“Wouldn't haveta if you remembered what y’all were meant to say! Didn't even tell ‘im where ta find the statue for the door.”

“Should I call ‘im back?”

“Nah. Too late now. And Zoe - try ta sex it up a bit. Flirt with the man a little. Arouse his fuckin’ interest, at least…..”

“ _ What? _ Why? Like you said, he's come fer his wife!”

“Yeah, an’ she tried ta kill ‘im! He might decide to jest fuck off outta here ‘n’ forget about her. That happens…..well, he might be on the lookout for a replacement. Keep ‘im interested and he might think o’ you.”

“Ok! I get it!”

“Oh, and Zoe?”

“What?”

Lucas poked her with his stump.

 

Worn out by the parade of emotions she'd experienced, Ellen left the room. She felt tired, ricocheting between fear and despair and anger and anxiety and confusion.

Lucas followed her.

“Why don't ya get some sleep, baby?” he suggested. “You look all tuckered out.”

“I'm worried I'll miss somethin’,” she admitted. “Scared I'll wake up an’ you'll be gone….”

“I wouldn't do that! Look, go an’ lie down at least. I promise, if somethin’ happens, I'll wake ya up. Deal?”

“Ok. Deal.”

She turned towards the bedroom, his playful smack on her ass sending her on her way.

  
  


Ellen dozed off and woke an unknown time later to find Lucas standing over her, his hood up, his face in shadow. The outline of his shoulders blocked most of the light seeping through the partially open door. Unable to see his expression, she panicked.

“Lucas? What's wrong? What's happened?”

“Nothin’, baby. It's all goin’ right. I was just checkin’ on ya. An’ look - “

He held up his left hand, wiggled the fingers.

“Good as new, baby. Jest like ah said.”

Relieved, she snatched at his arm, pushing up his sleeve to examine it. There was a new ring of scar tissue below his elbow, pinker and fresher than the others, and she prodded it apprehensively. Part of her expected her finger to sink in with little resistance, as though she thought there was a gap beneath it, but the flesh was solid enough, if unnaturally smooth. She transferred her attention to his hand, turning it over, studying it. She wondered if the lines on his palm were identical to the ones before, if his fingerprints were the same. It was difficult to get her head round the fact that it existed at all. It was Lucas’s hand, a part of him, but  _ new.  _ This hand had never touched her before…...

He didn't move, patiently standing over her, letting her scrutinise him. Absently, she drew the outline of a heart on his palm with her fingertip, analysing the texture of the skin, exploring the resilience of the flesh.

She put his hand to her face, rubbing it against her cheek.

“It feels the same,” she murmured. “But it ain't the same. It's brand new.”

She turned her head, brushing his thumb with her mouth. He rubbed the pad of it over the cushion of her lower lip sighing when she fastened her teeth on his knuckle, touching it with her tongue.

“Baby, we ain't got time for this….” he muttered.

Even as he said it, he was sinking onto the bed with her, watching her lips as she sucked on his thumb. He was close enough now she could see his face, the familiar angles, the stubble that grew back minutes after he shaved. She moved his hand down, kissing him as she placed it firmly against her breast, feeling the new fingers flex and squeeze her flesh.

“I got things to do,” he admonished, but didn't resist as she lay back, using her grip on his wrist to guide his hand down her body to her crotch. He touched her through her dress, his middle and index fingers pinching her clit.

She released his wrist, letting him take over, putting her arms around his neck as he pulled the hem of her dress up. The new hand was just as clever as the old one, teasing the wet rim of her cunt, gliding up between her pussy lips and stroking her just the way she liked it.

Despite his protests she could feel his hard-on, a solid weight against her hip.

“Mmmmmm…..” She grabbed at his cock through his jeans. “Lucas, don't think yer leavin’ this room without finishin’ me off…..”

By way of reply he twisted, shifted his weight, lowering himself over her and slotting himself between her legs where he fitted so perfectly. He pressed his mouth against hers, his teeth nipping at her lower lip. She scrabbled his hood down, brushing the fluff on the back of his head.

He rocked his hips into her crotch, letting her feel him, the stiff jut of his cock bruising her. She reached between them, unbuckling his belt, releasing the button of his jeans, unzipping him.

“We gotta be quiet,” he whispered, his hands sliding down her, grasping the backs of her thighs.

“I know that, fool,” she whispered back as he eased his cock into the slick chute of her cunt, making a small noise of appreciation as she closed around him.

Zoe was only two rooms away. The need for speed and silence was imperative, but she'd educated Lucas too well for him to throw a casual 30-second fuck into her even now.

He eased his hips back furtively, trying a shallow thrust, but the bedsprings retaliated immediately, squawking under their weight. Cursing, he used a new trick he'd learned, pushing into her right up to his hilt, then grinding rather than thrusting. His dick stirred in small circles inside her, his pubic bone rubbing against her clit. It was something he'd done when they'd both been exhausted and discovered that the small motions from this method barely produced a creak, so Lucas had immediately dubbed it “stealth-fucking” with his usual poetry.

His lips formed a seal around hers, stifling the sounds he was fucking out of her, the tip of his prick drawing slowly escalating vowels from her throat, wordless entreaties she was incapable of holding back. The mere fact that they couldn't throw themselves into it with their usual abandon made everything more intense, compressing every sensation and distilling it.

He rolled his cock inside her, she strained her pelvis upwards, his breath puffing into her mouth,her fingers biting into his back. The restraint was almost painful but it was working anyway.

His concentration in itself was a turn on.

She felt rather than heard him grunt, the vibrations trapped in his throat, and knew he was coming. Her thighs tightened around him, every muscle in her body seeming to commit to her orgasm. He held back, waiting for her to get there first, his heart rattling a tattoo against her breasts that matched her own beat. She bit down on his tongue so hard he had to pull away, the whine she made released into the air over their heads.

“Hhhhhhhhnnn…..” Her hips tried to jerk but he was pressed so tightly in her she was pinned in place, her pelvis seeming to vibrate against him. She could feel her pussy juices squirting out around his prick, trickling down her ass and pooling onto the sheets. She felt him cum in her, his spunk scalding, flooding her cunt with its sticky heat.

“Fuuucccckkkk…..” The word eased out of his gritted teeth, a long, drawn-out sigh against her throat as he buried his face in the side of her neck.

They lay still in the aftermath, getting their breath and composure back.

“You had that comin’ to ya,” grumbled Lucas into her hair.

“Oh, really?”

“Yup. You called me smart  _ twice _ earlier. Don't think I didn't notice.”

He raised his head. He was smiling - that dopey, fuck-drunk grin only she could produce from him.

“Took ya long enough….” she observed.

He eased himself out of her. Their groins parted with a wet, sucking sound.

“Well, it's gonna haveta keep me goin’,” he sighed. “I gotta do somethin’ real nasty now….”

“Nastier than  _ that _ ?”

“A whole lot nastier. I gotta saw a dead cop’s head off!”

She screwed her face up.

“That don't sound pleasant….” she said. She sat up. She didn't want to be left behind - quite literally stewing in her own juices, judging by the mess on the bed - whilst Lucas went off to work again. “You need any help with that?”

Lucas stared at her.

“Lemme get this straight: You wanna help me saw the head off a corpse?”

She nodded. Lucas laughed, but she thought he looked pleased.

“Ellen, you're the craziest, most stubborn woman I ever knew. What the fuck. C’mon then. We can call it a date.”


	10. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last part. Much death and suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a long haul for me and I never realised it would stretch out so long, but even though there were times I hated it *cough*chapter 5*cough* I've ultimately enjoyed it all.
> 
> I've grown to love this version of Lucas and his wonderful, kind, semi-murderous girlfriend, and I've enjoyed how their characters developed.
> 
> And thanks to DarthFucamus - who I still call DarthFuckAnus in my head - for being my devoted reader and constant helper.
> 
> I'm going off to have a little cry now.....

It felt odd to be wearing underwear after so long. And to have her legs covered.

Lucas had suggested the jeans she'd been wearing when he kidnapped her would be a more suitable outfit for sawing off heads, and she had to agree, but the tight denim made her feel confined. Not to mention the fact that lazing around doing nothing for so long had added an inch or so to her waistline….

Lucas walked into the bedroom to find her standing in the middle of the floor regarding the soft roll of flesh that rose over the waistband of her jeans.

“Hurry up, baby. What's the delay?”

“I got fat!” she wailed. “Look, they don't fit me no more!”

Lucas frowned, looking at her.

“Look fine ta me. They do up, don't they?”

“Yeah, but….” She shrugged helplessly.

“Aw, you ain't fat, honey. An’ even if you was, jest means there'd be more o’ ya ta hang onto.”

He put his arms round her waist, his fingers caressing the tiny roll.

“Soft….” he murmured.

Ellen pouted, but her relief was palpable. Zack had monitored her weight closely, reminding her often that he wouldn't tolerate a fat slob of a wife. When she'd begun to comfort eat during a period of depression and gone up a dress size he'd broken her jaw. Just to help with her diet, he'd said.

Lucas gave her new padding a squeeze.

“Hop to it, now,” he said. “We need ta get goin’. Don't you worry about it none.”

She put on her blouse as he loitered in the doorway, watching her. It wasn't until she sat on the bed to slip on her shoes that he spoke.

“Always did like you in them jeans…..” he said quietly.

She looked up at him. He was smiling, but looked sad nevertheless.

“I know you looked at my phone while I was gone. Don't worry - I ain't mad. But I guess you saw all those pictures I took o’ ya.”

She nodded. Lucas sighed.

“Kinda embarrassin’. Had whatcha might call an obsession with ya. I'm sorry. I know it's creepy. Surprised I kidnapped ya ta be honest. Got you in the back o’ the van an’ didn't know what I intended ta do with ya. Thought maybe if you were dead or turned I could finally stop thinkin’ about ya.” He laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Certainly didn't expect all this!”

“Lucas…”

“No, Ellen! Don't try an’ be understandin’ about it. I stole you. I even took yer name away. All because I had a hard-on for you. Outta all the fucked up things I've done in my life, takin’ you was the worst. Jest didn’t realise it at the time.” He shook his head. “Wish I could go back an’ undo it…”

“I don't.”

“How can you say that Ellen? You were a good person, an’ lookit you now - gettin’ all dressed up to go dismember a fuckin’ dead body. I made you just like me.”

“No, Lucas, you didn't make me anythin’. I killed my husband, remember?” She held up her hand, stopping him before he could speak. “Don't say he deserved it. I know he did. Didn't make what I did right, though. An’ Lonny? Well, I planned on killin’ him too, jest couldn't figure out how ta do it….till you came along and took care of it for me.”

She smiled.

“Think that's what made me fall in love with you. Anyways, there  _ have  _ been others. Ones I didn't tell you about.”

Lucas regarded her suspiciously.

“Yer jest sayin’ that ta make me feel better…..”

“Uh-uh. It's true. My grandaddy on ma daddy's side? Killed him in his bed when I was only 14. He was dyin’ anyway, respiratory illness, but i jest couldn't stand to see him die a natural death after all the stuff he did to me since I was little. I woke ’im up ‘fore I killed him, too - jest to make sure he knew what was comin’.” She glanced at the bed. “Used your trick with the pillow. ‘Cept I didn't stop.”

“You didn't do that…..” Lucas was staring at her.

Ellen laughed.

“Yes I did! There was a boy when I was at school, too. Kept takin’ upskirt photos of my panties, which was bad, but, y’know, weren't worth killin’ ‘im over. ‘Cept he followed me home one day, caught me in the woods…..”

“What did you do?” A slow grin was spreading over Lucas’s face.

“His body’s still down the old well, far as I know. I  _ think _ he died when I pushed ‘im down, but I was never sure. Walked that way coupla days later, thought I might’ve heard somethin’, but it could've been my imagination.” She shrugged. “Don't make much difference to ‘im now. He's deader’n dogshit.”

“You expect me to believe all this?”

“Coulda used yer polygraph thing if you hadn't busted it up. That would’ve showed ya. But I'm hopin’ ya know me well enough by now to know I wouldn't lie about somethin’ like that. I guess what I'm tryin’ ta say, Lucas, is that I never killed anyone for fun. I did it cuz they hurt me. An’ there might be a lot o’ people would say they deserved it. But I didn't  _ have  _ to. I  _ chose  _ to. So you didn't make no killer outta me. I already was one. Make o’ that what you will.”

Lucas shook his head.

“Damn, girl. I always knew there was somethin’ special ‘bout you. Looks like I done found myself my perfect woman!”

“Well, never mind that now. Got work to do, ain't we?”

 

“You hold his head, baby, an’ I'll do the cuttin’.”

Ellen gingerly grasped the cops ears. They were the only decent handhold with the top of his head the way it was: A second mouth had already sprouted from the open wound that had replaced the crown of his skull, the twisted teeth looking like they would try and close over a limb the second her attention wandered.

Lucas held the teeth of the saw poised over the man's adam’s apple, and Ellen looked away.

She wasn't exactly used to dead bodies, but she knew they shouldn't be like this after a few hours.

The cops legs were stiff with rigor mortis, whilst the top half of his body was ripe with rot, his chest and part of his shoulder a seething mass of bubbling mold that was gradually devouring his flesh. The reek coming from him, sickly and sweet, made her eyes water and her throat close, although the stench didn't seem to bother Lucas.

It was fascinating but ghastly the way the mold tried to convert flesh, even when it was dead.

Ellen didn't see Lucas make the first cut, but she heard the noise as the flesh separated - a wet, tearing sound that that made her gag. A new wave of gases rose from the split, a more composty smell than the rot but just as nauseating.

The head rocked in her grip as Lucas sawed vigorously, the saw making a different sound as it sliced through gristle, and Ellen pressed her lips together, concentrating on controlling her gag reflex.

“Boy, my old man sure fucked ‘im up,” said Lucas as he worked. He sounded almost cheerful. “Guess you didn't see that. Prolly just as well. Took the top o’ his head clean off with that fuckin’ shovel o’ his. Looked like crackin’ open a boiled egg.”

“Lucas…..” said Ellen faintly.

“Oh! Sorry baby.”

Lucas began to hum something, Ellen couldn't make out what. Much as she loved him, she had to admit than her man couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but she was at least grateful for the distraction. He'd hit the spine now, and the rasping the saw teeth made on the bone was vibrating through the head and tingling in her fingers.

“Nearly done now. Jest as well the top half’s all rotten, the saw’s goin’ through it like shit through a goose!” he said happily.

Ellen closed her eyes. There was a crackling sound, then the noise of the saw scraping the metal table, and suddenly the head was a shocking weight loose in her hands.

“There! All done.” He patted her shoulder. “Ya did real good baby. Here, you write up the sign, I'll stick the key down ‘is throat.”

He handed her a magic marker and directed her to the piece of board propped up nearby.

“What should I write?” she asked, relieved the unpleasant bit was over.

“Uh…..how ‘bout ‘Prove you're a real man by sticking your hand down this pig's throat’,” suggested Lucas, rolling up his sleeve.

“How's that gonna prove he's a man?”

“It's a challenge. Like callin’ him ‘chicken’. He gotta do it then. It's the Man Code.”

“Well, I guess you'd know,” said Ellen doubtfully and began to write, the squeaking of the marker unfortunately not drowning out the squelching coming from behind her.

“Shee-it….this is all fuckin’ warm….must be the mold workin’...” he was muttering.

Ellen refused to look.

“Hey, kinda reminds me o’ somethin’...”

“Lucas.”

“It's makin’ me horny…..”

“Lucas!”

She finished writing, but went back and put some finishing touches to the letters to avoid seeing Lucas deep-throating the dead cop.

She heard water running and decided it was safe to look round.

Lucas was washing his arm off in a large sink at the end of the room. The cops neck stump was raw and shiny looking, some thick substance dribbling from it.

“Could ya write me a note ta stick on the head?” asked Lucas, scrubbing under his nails. “Tell ‘im the cop’s here.”

Ellen picked up a grubby scrap of paper lying by the corpse.

“Shall I call ‘im a bitch?” she asked. “It kinda needs somethin’ on the end….”

“Knock yerself out, baby,” Lucas sniggered.

 

They were walking through the labyrinth of mold-choked corridors when Lucas stopped dead.

“Shit!” he breathed. “The fuck did she get down here?”

Ellen craned her neck, peering over his shoulder. She could see part of a wheelchair, a wizened hand on the armrest.

Lucas turned to her.

“Listen, I'm gonna have ta make this look good. I'll try not ta hurt ya, but….” he trailed off. “Don't talk to her. Ya hear me?”

Ellen nodded, frightened by the look on his face, and let out a gasp as he reached around the back of her head, taking a handful of her hair in a firm grip.

“Here we go. I'm sorry, baby.”

He started walking again, the hank of her hair in his fist forcing her to follow. He went slowly so as not to pull, but the hunched over position she was forced to adopt pulled at her roots. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Hey, Eveline!” he greeted the old woman cheerfully. “How ya doin’?”

There was silence, the woman's head rolling loosely on her neck, rheumy eyes moving from side to side in her sockets.

“Did he? Fuck! That bastard!” Lucas pulled Ellen closer by her hair, and she let out a sob. “Well, don't worry! I'm settin’ up somethin’ reeal special for that asshole. I'm gunna fuck ‘im up good.”

Another pause.

“What, this one?” He gave her a brief shake, and she yelped, tears flowing in earnest. “I found ‘er wanderin’. Do me a favour, Eveline, don't tell Momma? I wanna keep ‘er.”

The old woman turned her milky gaze onto Ellen, her sunken lips moving almost imperceptibly. On the surface she looked like an ordinary person, but there was a wrongness about her Ellen couldn't quite identify.

Lucas laughed.

“Aw, cummon! I ain't gonna ruin ‘er…...You can have ‘er when I'm done. Might be a few pieces missin’ but the main parts’ll be fine.”

He frowned.

“Why? She ain't got nothin’ important to say! She's just some cunt I picked up. ‘sides….” He sniggered, an awful, throaty sound. “I don't think she  _ can  _ talk right now! Ya get me?”

Ellen sobbed silently, her head now pushed down level with Lucas’s waist. He was tense, and his grip had tightened on her hair without him realising. Her scalp burned from the continuous pressure.

“Ok, it's a deal. I better get goin’, Eveline - those traps ain't gonna arm themselves….”

They walked around the corner, Lucas dragging her by her hair, and the minute they were a safe distance Lucas released her.

“I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!” He put his arms round her, rubbing the back of her head. “I couldn't let ‘er know about you! Are you ok?”

Her head still smarted, and being treated so brusquely by Lucas even as a diversion hurt more than she wanted to admit, but he was so contrite she couldn't be upset with him.

“I'm ok. But next time ya pull my hair, it had better be in bed, that's all I'm sayin’....”

Still shaken, they continued on. A large moulded staggered around the corner, it's gaze sliding over Lucas and latching onto her.

“Fuck off!” Lucas told it, and it wavered, confused.

The creature made a noise that was almost questioning, and took a step towards Ellen, beginning to raise one huge claw, but Lucas gave it a shove in the middle of its chest, his hand sinking into the black goo that made up its body.

“I said fuck off!” said Lucas. “This one's mine, ya hear! Now git!”

He shooed it away as though it were a troublesome dog, and it subsided. Maybe it was just her empathetic nature, but Ellen was almost sure its feelings were hurt.

“Fuckin’ things…..” muttered Lucas, and guided her into the incinerator room.

“Ah need another note, baby.”

Lucas dictated as she scribbled. Behind her, there were muffled thumps coming from behind one of the metal doors.

“Who's the guy who kept tryin’ to escape?” she asked as Lucas pinned the note above the sink.

“Our friend Travis. Poor bastard. He never did give up. He's fully turned now. No more blowjobs for him.”

 

They went upstairs. Ellen recognised the scorpion door they'd gone through that first day, remembering how terrified she'd been at the sound of Lucas’s parents arguing on the other side of the double doors. She'd been clinging to the back of his hoodie that time, but now she walked through it holding his hand.

“Wait up, baby. I'm gonna call Zoe.”

Ellen wandered off as he spoke to his sister, looking around, taking everything in, from the statue of the soldier to the balcony overhead. The property had to be huge, and even with the filthy state of disrepair it was in now, she saw the potential it had. It could be a beautiful house.

Briefly, she imagined it cleaned up and painted, all traces of mold eliminated, with Lucas and herself living there. She'd let Zoe have part of the house too.

They'd get a dog……

Lucas was at her side, interrupting her daydream.

“All goin’ ta plan.”

“How's Zoe, holdin’ the fort?”

“She's fine. Officially creeped out, though. Ever’ time Ethan goes in her trailer he picks up her bra,” Lucas sniggered.

“Okay…..that's pretty weird……”

They went upstairs, Lucas steering her round corners. It was gloomy in the house with most of the windows still boarded up from the storm that had triggered this years ago. Mold had crept upstairs, climbing the walls and lining the ceiling.

“Shit, this stuff spreads fast…” muttered Lucas. “This place was clean earlier.”

There was a large bloodstain on the floor, bits of black threaded through it.

“What's that from?” asked Ellen.

“Ethan earlier, takin’ potshots at the old man. Kept puttin ‘im down, he kept gettin’ up. There's probably more around, so watch where yer steppin’.”

Lucas began humming again. It sounded like Chumbawumba.

He produced a key with a snake wrapped round it, identical to the one he'd inserted into the corpse in the basement.

“Here we go. This used ta be my room……”

Ellen looked around, finding the room heartbreaking somehow. There was a small, child-sized bed. Sports posters on the walls. A large stuffed gator, full of holes, off to one side. And the trophies…. There were lots of them.

Ellen picked one up and read the base.

“Amateur Robotics Championship 1998? How old were you then?”

“Uh…..7 I reckon. Yeah, 7.”

“You won a fuckin’ robotics trophy when you were 7 years old? Lucas…..”

“What?”

“I ain't gonna say it. We don't have time for what you'd do to me if I did. Let's jest say I'm impressed.”

She set the trophy down and picked up another.

“Shit. You shouldn't o’ been here when Eveline came. You should have been off at some fuckin’ genius school or makin’ big bucks workin’ for NASA or somethin’. It ain't fair.”

Ellen felt near tears surrounded by Lucas’s childhood toys and achievements. There had been an innocent boy living in this room once, one who'd played ball games and liked alligators and slept in this little bed…...and not half an hour ago he'd been sawing the head off a cop that his possessed father had killed.

Lucas was silent, and she turned to see him standing there with his backpack, staring at her.

“I couldn't o’ done none o’ that, Ellen. My folks didn't have the money, an’, well, I've always been a fuck-up.”

“Maybe you were only a fuck-up cuz you didn't have the opportunities you should o’ had. Maybe you’d o’ been different if you'd been able to go off to school…..”

Lucas considered it.

“Nah. I don't reckon so. You got too much faith in me, Ellen. I'm the bad seed. I'm the kid who had to get his brain scanned cuz he weren't right in the head. I weren't never gonna amount to nothin’. But….I kinda like the way ya see me, anyways. Let's pretend it could o’ been true, yeah?”

He picked up a lamp, tilting it and putting his hand under the shade. There was a click, then a mechanical sound as a ladder began to descend from a hole in the ceiling.

“That there used to be my hideaway. Used to spend hours up there on my laptop. Jerkin’ off, mostly, if I'm bein’ honest.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “You can stay down here. I won't be long.”

She watched him climb the ladder, listened to him walking around up there.

They'd both changed in the time they'd known each other, she reflected. Lucas had become more subdued and introspective, she had become more confident and aggressive, like their personalities had bled into one another. She laughed. Maybe it was the amount of bodily fluids they'd exchanged.

Lucas came back down and sent the ladder back up.

“Ok, we're doin’ good. Let's move on.”

 

Back at their room, Zoe was crying.

“Momma’s dead,” she told them. “I know that's what we wanted, but…..shit, Lucas. Seein’ her crumble like that…..”

Lucas walked over and stared at one of the monitors. The camera was zoomed in on a large heap of stuff that looked like large chunks of burned wood gone mostly to ash. He gazed at it for a long time.

“Well,” he said eventually. “We, uh, still got a lot to do.”

He swallowed hard, swiped angrily at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Can't stand here mopin’. What else is new, Zoe?” His voice sounded hoarse.

Zoe sniffed.

“Daddy reanimated not long before you both went to the dissection room,” she said.

“Yeah, I noticed he was gone. Where is he now?”

Zoe indicated a monitor  where a large, pulsating mass took up most of the screen.

“Holy fucksticks…..” muttered Lucas reverently. “He's gonna be fuckin’ huge. Hope our boy can handle ‘im.”

 

The mood changed in the control room as Lucas made his phone call to a pissed off Ethan, who had been expecting to meet up with Zoe. Trying to sound like he wasn't upset over his mother's death, Lucas went too far the other way, assailing the man with an overly cheerful tone that bordered on manic. By the time he'd finished and hung up, both women were giggling helplessly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” blazed Lucas. “The pair o’ ya nearly put me off!”

“I'm sorry, baby,” tittered Ellen. “It's just….that bit about the head…..it was really gay!”

Glowering, Lucas thought back over his conversation.

“Real mature, guys,” he muttered as it dawned on him.

“He….he prolly thinks….he's gonna get a nice blowjob from you!” spluttered Zoe.

“Yeah, very fuckin’ amusin’.” He grabbed a length of rope. “Ellen, I'm gonna go tie Zoe up. Call me when Ethan gets to the dissection room.”

He slipped his phone into his pocket and left the room, followed by a still sniggering Zoe.

 

It took a while for Ethan to get the snake key and make his way up the attic, by which time Lucas was back.

“Baby, you better get your stuff. We may have to leave once Ethan’s through with my room.”

They were going to Lucas’s puzzle area to watch the cameras from the single monitor in the office behind it. It was the same room in which they'd fucked while Becky and Janine had melted, but by now Lucas had put in a concealed door so they could get to it quickly without going outside.

The atmosphere was fraught, events drawing rapidly to a close. The tiny, shrivelled corpse that held the other component for the serum was nestled safely in a metal case, waiting for Ethan to retrieve it. The syringes for administering the antidote were carefully stuffed inside.

Ellen sat on Lucas’s knee as they watched Ethan bumble around upstairs.

The room where the two girls had died had been cĺeaned out. It had been a messy, slippery job that had taken the better part of three days, but now it held the valve handle Ethan would need to turn off the water supply.

Lucas had forbidden her to observe when Ethan had watched the tape he'd labelled “Happy Birthday”, going so far as to cover her ears with his hands when the fire started, but she had still heard the distant ghost of the man called Clancy’s screams as he burned to death. Lucas’s laughter, full of hideous delight, had overlain it all.

She'd caught a glimpse of one part, though, rebelliously peering between her fingers when the robotic clown had sprung to life.

The bloody scrawl on the doomed man's arm had been identical to the scar on Lucas’s chest, right down to the jagged “S”.

After it had finished, Lucas had been subdued again.

“I always planned that room would be for Oliver,” he told her. “Was who I had in mind when I designed it. But that fucker had ta go to college in another state, didn't he?”

He sighed.

“It's hard work bein’ a serial killer…..”

“Poor baby.”

 

They ran when Lucas dropped the bundle of dynamite, not waiting to see if Ethan would figure out that the hole in the wall led to freedom.

“Gave ‘im 20 fuckin’ seconds on the timer,” said Lucas as they sprinted across the pier. “Surely he ain't that dumb? I ain't too worried though - long as he don't walk round with it shoved up his ass the entire time……”

A helicopter circled overhead, a searchlight combing the surrounding swamp. Lucas grabbed Ellen’s hand and pulled her into the shadows.

“Who's that?” panted Ellen. “The police?”

“Naw,” said Lucas.  “Fuckin’ Umbrella. Been watchin’ us from the start.”

“Someone's been watching y’all? Do they know what's been happenin’?”

Lucas nodded, his mouth set in a grim line.

“Yep. You’d think they'd o’ intervened at some point, wouldn't you? Not them, though. Not till they wanna. Fuckers.”

His hand tightened on hers.

“Reckon they could o’ saved us, maybe.”

Huddled there in the dark, they watched the helicopter glide over the house and disappear into the distance.

“That's why we gotta leave,” Lucas told her. “Whatever happens, they'll be lookin’ for survivors. Especially me. Can't let that happen. Lord only knows what they'd do ta me.”

Ellen hugged him tighter, imagining him strapped to a table in a room filled with white light as people in biohazard suits ran tests on him, dissected him. She shuddered.

Gunshots sounded in the near distance: Ethan had made it out. A Molded roared in anger.

“As soon as Ethan gives Zoe the serum - “ Lucas stopped. “Did ya hear that?”

“Hear what?” she whispered.

They listened to the water lapping against the posts that held the pier up. There was a creaking noise from underneath them, slowly getting louder as the water began to lap more vigorously. Ellen heard a splashing, huge and somehow laborious.

Standing cautiously, Lucas peered round the corner into the swamp.

“Jesus fuck!” he said in awe.

Curious, Ellen followed his gaze, gasping at the monstrous figure that all but blotted out the moonlight. A gigantic, yellow eye swung round, searching like the light from the helicopter.

“Daddy's back,” said Lucas, just as the thing climbed onto the pier.

The wooden boards beneath them rocked, swamp water flowing through the cracks. Ellen clutched onto to Lucas as the entire edifice lurched underfoot.

“Shit!”

Lucas slipped, pulling Ellen with him.

As the creature that had been Jack Baker scaled the side of the building that held Ethan, Zoe and Mia,  Lucas and Ellen plunged into the water.

Wood splintered and broke off, a large lump of it crashing into Ellen’s arm, dislodging her grip on Lucas’s sleeve. She swallowed brackish water as the surface closed over her head, her feet kicking out desperately. She thrashed with her hands, searching for something to hold onto, but her fingers only brushed against slippery wood and clots of duckweed.

A huge wave from the collapsed pier billowed against her, forcing her further away. Ellen struck out for the surface as eddies of current buffeted her back and forth.

Something scaly brushed against her.

Trying to control her panic, she dodged as best she could, one hand breaking the surface, seeking. Reeds touched her fingertips and she seized at them, her slippery grip teasing her as she tried to pull herself up.

The scaly thing touched her again, armour plating knocking into her back, sending her under once more.

Then there was a hand, thrusting down into the waistband of her jeans, taking a handful of the soggy denim and hoisting her up.

She spluttered and choked, the muggy air of the bayou filling her lungs.

Lucas, her wet saviour, towed her to a stable section of the dock, heaving her one handed out of the water and depositing her safely on the decking.

All hell was breaking loose in the building behind her, Jack’s rumbling voice filling the night, but all Ellen could concentrate on was the sinister outline of an alligator closing in on Lucas. She coughed, vomiting out dank water.

“Lucas!” she croaked. “Behind you!”

He turned, and she saw his face split into a grin.

“Aw, it's jest a gator, honey. I'd wrastle with it ‘n’ give you a show, but we ain't exactly got time for that!”

Lucas aimed a punch at the beast's nose, sending it flailing away in a stream of bubbles.

He winked at her as he boosted himself out of the water.

“Impressed, baby?”

“Sure I am,” she said, lightheaded from lack of oxygen. “I'd fuck ya right here if yer daddy weren't tearin’ a hole into another dimension.”

As she spoke, Jack’s voice rose in a howl, the syllables echoing across the swamp.

_ “Marguerite!” _

Lucas helped her up, pushing her wet hair from her face. Flames burst up behind her, illuminating him in the dancing yellow glow.

“Reckon it's about over now, baby,” he said softly. “We better get outta sight. Can't let Ethan see me……”

 

They hid once again as the scene unfolded: The revelation that there was only one dose of the serum left; the choice; the man choosing his wife.

Neither of them spoke as Mia and Ethan climbed into the boat, Zoe watching bitterly as the small motor propelled them away.

Lucas seemed broken, leaning against her with a despair she could almost taste, his wet head on her shoulder. His misery was palpable, his intricate planning gone to waste, his sister still infected, his efforts all in vain.

“I can't do this no more,” he breathed. “I'm so fuckin’ tired o’ it all……”

“Baby, please don't give up,” she begged.

“Why not? It's all over now. It didn't work. I thought it would, but in the end it weren't enough. I shoulda done it maself. I failed.”

“Zoe still needs you. I still need you.” She paused. “I love you Lucas, and somewhere out there are people who need what you can do. People that need to pay.”

She turned his head to her, looking him in the eye.

“You can't let them get away with it.”

He squeezed her waist, the merest hint of a grin touching his lips.

“We'll do it together, right baby?”

She nodded.

Hand in hand they plodded across the dock towards Zoe.

 

“What did we expect really?” said Zoe dully. “O’ course he was gonna choose his wife if it came to it……”

“Fuck!” Lucas kicked one of the wooden posts at the pier’s edge. “Why couldn't the old man just die like Momma? Why’d he have ta come back like that? Selfish fucker’s ruined everything!”

Zoe slumped onto the damp wooden boards, a perfect picture of despair, her head sagging.

“Just leave, Lucas,” she said. “Go while you can. Take the other boat.”

“Uh-uh. I ain't leavin’ without you, Zoe. Get up!”

Zoe shook her head.

“She'll never allow it. You got a chance, though. Don't worry about me.”

“No!” Lucas bent down grabbed her by her scrawny upper arm, his fingers digging in brutally. “She might be distracted,” he said. “She'll prolly go after Mia an’ Ethan. Get the fuck up!”

He dragged her to her feet, turned to Ellen.

“There's another boat inside. I'm gonna go get it. Keep an eye on her.”

He stalked off. Zoe leaned against a post. She looked unbelievably weary.

“It ain't no use, Ellen. I know it. Lucas is the most mule-headed man I ever knew.” She cast a glance at the ruined boat house. “‘sides my Daddy. Somethin’s bound to happen. When it does….promise me you'll look after ‘im. You'll be all he’ll have left.”

“Course I will, Zoe. Why wouldn't I?”

Ellen moved towards the younger woman, hugging her. She felt frail and insubstantial in her arms, as though part of her had already gone; as if she had little left of her without that last bit of  hope to sustain her.

Zoe hugged her back, tears wetting her shoulder.

“Y’know, you're a good woman, Ellen. You're good for Lucas. I wish we coulda been friends…..”

“We are friends, Zoe. Come on now, don't be like that!”

Zoe laughed.

“Lucas always said that. When we argued or I was upset. He always was the most awkward sonofabitch. Looks like he's rubbin’ off on you, like you're rubbin’ off on him.”

There was a splashing sound from the water,  and Lucas came into view paddling a pirogue.

“It ain't much, but it'll do,” he said. “Quiet too. Come on, ladies.”

Ellen stepped gingerly down into the boat, and after some hesitation Zoe followed. They settled themselves down either side of him.

“Here we go….”

Lucas used the oar to push the boat away from the pier.

The night was illuminated by a full moon that cast a silvery glow on the dark water and touched the bushes on either side. Lucas navigated the boat between the banks with ease, propelling it forward with strong strokes, picking pathways through the maze of streams. Zoe remained huddled in the back, hugging herself.

“We'll be outta here ‘fore ya know it,” said Lucas in a low voice. “Cut through the salt mines. Then we can strike out for town, get a car…..”

“It's no use.” Zoe’s voice was weak. “I can feel her. She got her eye on me.”

“Close yerself off, like I taught ya!” said Lucas urgently. “Don't let her get a hold!”

Zoe gritted her teeth, sucking air between them.

“She's in my head already. I can't push her out!”

“Think o’ somethin’ safe!”

“I can't!” She wailed. “She already knows! Oh, shit, Lucas! She's - “

Zoe threw her head back, her face twisted with pain. Her hands curled over the edge of the boat, tightening.

“No, Eveline! Please!”

Ellen gasped as grey, scaly patches began to form on Zoe’s arms, spreading outward like ripples over her shoulders and chest. Lucas hurled the oar down into the bottom of the boat, grabbing his sister.

“Fight her, Zoe!” he urged, but Zoe screamed as the flaky, ash-like substance began to climb her throat.

There was a dry, brittle sound as one of her arms broke off in Lucas’s hand, and her screams became muffled as her face was overcome by the encroaching decay.

Unable to do anything, Ellen sat and watched in horror as Zoe was engulfed, her limbs crumbling, her head tipping sideways as her neck cracked. The arm Lucas held disintegrated into dust, pouring through his fingers like sand.

They sat in silence, a breeze wafting past them, stirring the powdery heap that drifted over the inside of the boat.

Lucas stared at his hands, unmoving. Ellen wanted to touch him, but the enormity of what had just happened made her uncertain of his reaction. How could a hug mend those wounds?

“Well……” Lucas’s voice sounded cracked and ragged. “I guess that's that.”

He brushed off his hands, picked up the oar.

“Lucas - “

“Hush now, Ellen. Don't say nothin’ yet, baby. I can't……” His voice trailed off, and he coughed.

His head bowed as he started to paddle again, his strokes listless but gaining strength as he went. He began to mutter, his voice barely audible.

“She was fuckin’ right. But I wouldn't listen. Not me. Not fuckin’ Lucas. I always know better. Fuck everythin’ up. Over ‘n’ over. Never should o’ tole ‘em about the ship, but I had ta go investigate, didn't I? Wanted fuckin’ salvage, stuff I could use. Look where it got us.” His voice rose, snarling. “An’  _ them!  _ Those fuckers in the helicopter, watchin’ us, seein’ how it all played out. We was just a fuckin’ experiment! They could o’ stopped it, I fuckin’ bet ya!”

His oar stabbed the water viciously.

“I swear, I'll kill every fuckin’ one o’ them I get the chance! You hear me Ellen?”

“I hear you baby.”

“Every. Last. Fuckin’. One.”

“Ok.”

He stopped rowing, his shoulders sagging. The pirogue drifted.

“Hold me, Ellen. Just fer a little while. I need it.”

Without hesitation, she shifted forward, wrapping her arms around him from behind, melding herself to his back. He leaned against her, a stifled sob emerging from his throat. She kissed his ear. He squeezed her arm.

They sat like that for a few minutes, not speaking, silent sobs heaving his shoulders, before he sat up and patted her hand.

“Ok, I'm good.” He said grimly. “Let's get goin’. I got some fuckin’ traps to set.”

  
  


Ellen didn't know what had gone wrong. Maybe Lucas’s buried grief had distracted him, maybe he had some kind of deathwish. All she knew was that whilst he was stringing a tripwire across a precarious ledge, the explosive went off.

She'd been standing too close, holding the backpack for him to free his hands, and when the explosion happened it sent her off the edge, flinging sharp bits of cave shrapnel into her face. It wasn't a huge drop, but it was high enough, and the deafening blast cut off all her senses except for the one that tracked her fall.

She felt pain, both sharp and dull, as she hit the stony floor below, her head bouncing off the jagged surface, her back absorbing most of the shock. Something cracked, whether a rock beneath her or part of her body she didn't know, and the breath was forced from her lungs.

Her ears rang with a high-pitched whine, drowning out Lucas’s panicked cries as she lay there trying to persuade her shocked body to start breathing again. She opened her eyes, focussing on the cave ceiling. The pain in her back, negligible at first, began to transmit a low ache into her chest and arms which slowly began to build.

Her throat felt strange, and she realised she was screaming, though she couldn't hear it herself.

Lucas’s face came into view above her, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he spoke to her. There was blood speckling his face where chips of stone had pierced it, and blood running from one of his ears.

She tried to ask him if he was ok, her tongue lying thick in her mouth, and his face crumpled with grief.

His teeth touched his lower lip.

“Fuck!”

She read it on his mouth.

“I can't move my legs, Lucas….”

Her hearing was returning, but everything still sounded like they were underwater. Lucas threw himself forward, his head on her chest. She tried to lift her arms to hug him, but they felt too heavy.

Then Lucas was up and gone. Had he left her?

She moved her head. It tilted a little to the left. Stretched shadows danced on the mine walls.

Her vision began to shrink, a dark cloud circling it, pushing inwards, narrowing everything to a pinpoint. She tasted bright copper, but it didn't seem to matter. She just wanted Lucas. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the invading darkness.

A new pain, in her earlobe. She opened her eyes. Lucas was pinching her. He looked far away.

“Ow….”

“Stay with me, baby!” His face was suddenly close to hers, though he seemed blurry. “C’mon, now!”

Something hovered in front of her eyes, some sort of cylinder. She struggled to blink the darkness away and was only partially successful.

It was a syringe, filled with some tarry substance.

“I'm gonna try it, Ellen. It's our only chance…..”

There was a sharp pain in the crook of her elbow, the feeling of something flooding her veins.

She started to scream again. It hurt! This was a whole new pain. Her heart lurched in her chest, the muscle spasming, stopping, taking her breath away all over again. 2 seconds. 3. 4.

On the fifth second it started again, a huge crash that felt like it would burst her ribs. The mold exploded through her body, tiny atoms drifting along on the tide of her blood, infiltrating every part of her. Her spine cracked - she felt it shift, and as it did the feeling returned to her legs, and that feeling was agony.

“Noooo!” she wailed, dry sobs wracking her, her body too busy to notify her tear ducts.

With a crackle, her hearing returned in a rush, every sound suddenly magnified to a torturous volume.

“It's ok, Ellen! Ssh, baby.”

Lucas’s hands held hers. She could feel his fingerprints burning into her skin, every loop and whirl clearly defined. She could read them like braille.

The details of the cave ceiling snapped into focus, sharpening and lightening. She could see specks of quartz studding the rock, make out every single grain of dust.

Lucas leaned over her, his face different, more clear than she'd ever seen it before. She counted the hairs in his stubble in a split second, saw the tears that he'd shed for Zoe, their dried up paths visible to her.

“Oh……”

He grinned.

“It's amazin’, ain't it?”

“Oh!”

She couldn't speak, the sensory overload overwhelming all her synapses.

Oh God, what would it be like to fuck like this?

At the very idea she became aware of her pussy, ignored in the commotion, the mucus membranes jumping to life, tingling as she got wet, so goddam wet.

“Oh, Lucus…..oh fuck…..”

She felt like she could come just by thinking about it.

His eyebrows raised at the hungry look she gave him.

“Oh, no, baby…..jest wait a little while…..you ain't done yet!”

She moaned, a deep, throaty sound. Her voice was glorious, like music.

The pain had gone, the misery replaced with rushing power as her body mended, but she still couldn't move.

“Hang in there, honey.”

He moved away, and she managed to roll her head so she could track him. He was digging through the backpack, finally producing a bottle of water.

“Ya had me shit-scared there for a minute, Ellen,” he was saying. “I thought you was - “

He stopped, tilting his head, listening. There was a creaking noise overhead, a heavy scraping and grinding that sounded alive somehow.

“Oh shit!”

Lucas sprang to his feet, but the realisation had hit him too late.

Helpless, Ellen could only lie there and watch as a huge chunk of the cave ceiling, dislodged by the explosion, fell on top of him.

 

The dust cleared.

Ellen had breathed a large quantity of it in, but her new regenerative system rushed in to filter out all the particles almost as soon as they entered her lungs.

She moved her hand, her fingers clenching on rubble that had rolled over her. Her arm shifted, twisting around to push her upright.

Huge boulders and lumps of rock lay where there had been open floor just minutes ago, piled up to a mountainous peak, and somewhere underneath it all was Lucas.

 

She heaved herself to her feet, unsteady like a newborn calf, but as she flexed her muscles she felt them strengthen.

“Lucas?”

She felt silly calling his name, but there was a lump in her throat that felt like it would strangle her, and she had to say something. She strained her new hearing, listening for any shallow breath, any fitful movement, any slight gurgle. All she could hear was the sound of dust settling.

“Lucas!”

She threw herself at the heap of stone, grabbing a sizeable rock without hope but lifting it with barely any effort. She tossed it aside, reached for another.

“Hold on, baby, I'm comin’!”

She tussled with a boulder, groaning as she heaved it off. Fingernails flaked and tore and regrew as she worked, her fingertips shredding and healing. She grappled with another rock, sharp edges cutting her palms. Fuck it. A tendon snapped, causing a bright pain in her arm that dulled almost immediately as it reformed. Fuck you.

She rolled a massive stone away, sending it crashing into the opposite wall. Her fingers broke as they got trapped between two huge, flat shelves of rock, but knitted together as she kicked them apart with her feet. Fuck off!

She cleared it away, all of it, and at the very bottom lay Lucas, bent and crushed, his skull caved in, his marvellous brain leaking out. Bright splinters of teeth scattered round his head like daisies on a lawn. 

Frantic, she fell upon him, her hands sliding up underneath his hoodie to lay flat on his chest. She held her breath.

There were voices approaching, the crackle of radios, but she ignored them, waiting.

“C’mon, Lucas. Where are you?” She leaned over him, putting her ear close to his mouth.

There…..

The tiniest stirring of breath against her cheek, the slightest vibration beneath her fingertips as his heart struggled to beat.

“Oh, yes, baby, that's it!”

The voices were getting louder. Not waiting any longer, Ellen picked up the backpack, miraculously unscathed, and shrugged it on. She stooped, grabbing Lucas under his arms, lifting him easily, setting him over her shoulder. Blood dribbled down her back from his wounded head.

“Let's go, baby,” she whispered to him, and strode off into the mines.

  
  
  


**_Epilogue_ **

_ Fayetteville, Arkansas _

_ June 2017 _

 

Oliver stepped out of the bar into the warm night air, cursing his luck that evening. Pickings had been sparse, all the girls were either ugly or there with their boyfriends, and his chances of getting laid that night had dwindled as the night progressed.

A man and a woman wandered past arm-in-arm, laughing together, and Oliver glared sourly at their backs as they walked on. From the way the girl hung onto her partner, Oliver had no doubt at least somebody was going to be getting some pussy soon.

Sighing, he checked his phone. No messages. Well, fuck. He scrolled through his contacts, wondering if there was anybody he could booty call. He hadn't got his dick wet in two days.

His thumb paused as he reached Becky’s name, and he felt a slight twinge in his chest. Just a slight one. Still no news on her. She'd disappeared months ago, along with her friend.

Ah, Janine. Dumb as all get out, but boy could she suck. What a fuckin’ waste.

He kind of missed Becky - or Becky’s twat, to be precise - but he didn't miss fucking Skyping her every night. That had put a serious hindrance on his social life. Bitch could talk like it was an Olympic sport.

Sighing Oliver pocketed his phone. He was about to head home when a woman brushed past him, the flowery scent of her triggering some kind of testosterone surge. She threw him a sideways glance, accompanied by the type of flirtatious smile he'd been used to seeing all his life.

Oliver watched her walk away, her ass swinging in her tight dress.

He made a decision.

“Hey! Excuse me.”

She stopped and turned towards him, a questioning look on her face. She was older than him, but she was also a fucking knockout, with long hair midway between blonde and brown and big hazel eyes. Oliver plastered on his most charming smile.

“Did it hurt?” he asked.

She looked puzzled.

“Did what hurt?”

“When you fell outta heaven…..”

She smiled.

“No, but I scraped my knees when I crawled up from hell.”

Oliver laughed.

“Are you tryin’ ta pick me up, sir?” she asked. Beautiful, down-home accent. 

“I think maybe I might be,” he admitted.

“Well, in that case, why don't ya walk with me?” she suggested, turning on her heel and continuing on her way.

Oliver hesitated for only a moment before starting after her, hurrying to catch up.

“So where are you going?” he asked.

“Home.” She looked sideways at him from under her lashes, her cheeks dimpling.

Shit! That had been easier than he'd expected. Oliver happily took her arm, comporting himself like the gentleman he was.

“You know, you look kinda familiar,” she said.

“I do?”

“Yeah. I feel sure I've seen you somewhere……”

She trailed off, stopping to look at him. The crowds had grown thinner as they'd walked, and they stood alone under the shattered streetlight. She peered closely at his face.

“I know! You used to go to Lonny’s Bar near Dulvey, didn't you?”

Oliver frowned.

“Well, a couple of times, yeah. You really recognise me from there?”

“I sure do! Don't never forget a face. Your name's Oliver, right?”

He laughed.

“Hell, you got a memory like an elephant, girl! That's  _ right _ .”

His companion smiled, looking pleased with herself.

“Well,  _ Oliver _ …...I got a message for you from a mutual acquaintance.”

“Really? An’ what's that?”

“The message is: You're fucked…..”

There were footsteps behind him and something with a sharp chemical smell was clamped over his face. He struggled, but couldn't budge it, the sound of familiar laughter echoing in his ear. The woman leaned forward as he lost consciousness.

“ _ Loser!”  _ she sneered.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
